Survival of the Fittest
by KayLyn666
Summary: Takes place in Season Three, starting at the Prison. Will NOT follow the canon plot. When Kay's dog led her and her young daughter to the prison, the last thing she expected was to find survivors. Much less, survivors who were more than capable of surviving the apocalypse. Now, Kay is forced to come to terms with reality, or die trying.
1. Introduction

Day 400+

_Lucas, you promised you wouldn't leave Brooklyn and me alone in this fight. You promised you'd come and rescue us. We've been holding onto that hope for over a year now. Where the hell are you? Food's scarce at best. Clean water? We haven't seen any for three weeks. Forget about sleep, we don't even bother trying anymore. Misha's leading us to the prison. Hopefully something good comes out of it. That damn dog has better judgment than anyone else these days. Where are you Luke? We need you..._

When the world ends, looting, time, and survival are your only means. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. My husband instilled those qualities in me since the day our daughter was born, over five years ago. Little did he know, that those very qualities would keep us alive, in a world with no rules. A world with no morals or stability.

When the outbreak began, Lucas rang us over the radio he always kept in the living room. An old police radio that he bought and fixed back before we met. Anyway, he told us it was bad – that people were dying all over. That there was no cure that they knew of. He and his company in the United States Army was working around the clock to find a way to contain it. A way to keep it from spreading. He told us to head to the CDC in Atlanta. He said if all else failed, find somewhere safe, where they couldn't get us. He told us, most importantly, do not, under any circumstances, get bit.

Then he promised to find us as soon as he could. That was the last we heard from him.

The last year and a half (or maybe, it's been even longer?) have been hell. And even that is putting it lightly. The last six months, even worse. Our truck was totaled, most of our supplies lost or destroyed, our rations ran dry, and we were slowly losing the fight. The only thing that kept us going, was Lucas's promise.

"Mommy, how much longer?" Brooklyn cried after a whole day of walking. I had her strapped to my back, our duffel strapped right up along with her. Our dog, Misha, trailed beside us, her fur matted with dried blood and decay.

"The jail isn't much farther, Brookie," I promised. After we had learned that the CDC was destroyed, and Atlanta was far from safe, we continued in whatever direction the dog felt was safe. After finding a prison on the map, I made a rash decision to see if it was safe. Anything was safer than the outside world.

"You said that yesterday," she whined. She was tired, hungry and scared. We hadn't stopped for more than a few hours in months. We hadn't eaten a real meal in weeks. We were running on fumes. Another attack like the last...we'd be done for.

Ignoring my young daughter's complaints, I kept pushing onwards. Misha stopped suddenly, her ears flat against her skull, a silent growl building in her chest. I knelt down, keeping my body firmly pressed to the dog's thinning side.

"Misha, what direction?" I asked her. The dog had come from a long line of K9 unit pups, and adapted to alerting us to oncoming danger, without giving away our location.

She sniffed the air, her tail low, her eyes barely open. I waited until she stepped forward, her shaggy fur standing on end. After checking the map, I realized why she stopped. We were only yards away from the prison gates.

"Brooke, stay very, very quiet," I told my daughter. I felt her nod, and cling tightly to my back. I took a deep breath and followed Misha through the trees and blood splattered grass, praying to every god under the sun that we'd make it to safety soon.

As we cleared the trees, I saw my prayers were not to be answered. I could see the gates easily enough, but surrounding them, were at least a hundred – if not more – of the walking dead. We nicknamed them the "Eaters" because they ate anything that moved. Well, anything that didn't smell like them. Early on, we realized that if we smelled as bad as they did, moved slowly enough, and made no noise, we could pass unnoticed. It was actually Misha who figured it out. After weeks on the run, her long fur became matted with dead flesh and blood. She smelled something horrible, but she served as a great decoy.

Inching forward, I kept as low to the ground as possible, a long hunting knife in one hand, a handgun with six rounds in the other. I took a deep breath, and followed as Misha led us to another tree, this time, her ears perked.

"Brooke, there are a pair of binoculars in the front pocket on the duffel, can you reach them?" I whispered.

"I think so," she said as she wiggled around as quietly as she could. A minute later, she handed me the binoculars, her tiny hands trembling.

"It's gonna be okay, babygirl," I promised. I took a moment to scan the fence. Only then, did I realize that there were survivors inside. A man with what looked like a very updated cross bow patrolled one side, while a female wielding a long iron rod watched the other.

I thought about what Lucas had said, during one of our annual hunting trips just before our daughter was born.

"If you ever find yourself in a rotten situation, and there are other people far off that can't see you, make your presence known. Out here, mistakes happen too quickly."

I grabbed the flashlight from my pocket, and flipped it on. It was early, just a few hours before sunrise. I knew I was taking a huge risk, but I hoped it would pay off. Otherwise, we'd be running. Again.

I pointed it at the man, who was closer to where we were. I flicked it on and off, then flicked it on again. I watched as it caught his attention. I flicked it off and on one final time, before sticking it back in my pocket. Misha stood stone still, her teeth bared as she took in the scents. I watched as the man and the woman exchanged words, then as the woman ran around the gate, clanging the rod against the metal. Drawing the Eaters away from where the man stood.

"Brooke, I'm gonna have to set you down. Misha won't leave your side, okay? Run with her, as fast as you can, up to the gate. I'll cover you," I said as I struggle to untie the straps that were holding her onto my back.

"I'm scared!" she wailed. I set her down and knelt, so I was looking right into her bright green eyes.

"Brooklyn Mariah Riley, what did daddy always say when you were scared?" I asked as I laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That angels will keep all the bad away," she whimpered.

"Exactly. Angels will keep the bad away," I said. "Now when I give the signal, you and Misha run as fast as you can, okay?"

"What about you?" she asked with wide eyes.

"I'll be right behind you," I promised.

"Okay," she whispered. She looked absolutely terrified, and I couldn't blame her.

I gave Brooke a few minutes to brace herself, then told her to run. She took off, running faster than I ever imagined she could. Misha was right beside her, offering a hand to keep her steady. I followed behind, slower, letting myself be the distraction between my daughter and the Eaters. I took aim at the one closest to us, my shot ringing loudly in the early morning air. Cursing, I found myself slowly growing impatient, and worse, surrounded.

"Brooke, faster!" I screamed as I kept my back to her, my knife stabbing at the flesh eating monsters. One grabbed hold on my arm, and would have floored me, had it not been for the arrow that put a quick end to it.

We were three fourths of the way to the gate by the time Brooke's short legs gave out. She collapsed, panting heavily for air. Reacting on instinct and nothing else, I scooped her up and pushed Misha ahead of us, making quick work on the remaining yards.

"Hurry up!" the man barked as he held the gate open, his eyes locking on the Eaters that were trailing behind.

With one last burst of energy, I threw myself into the gate, Brooke slipping from my arms. She landed on the ground with a soft thud, but thankfully, Misha was right there to calm her down. I fell to my knees, breathless and bloodied, but alive.

"Are you okay? Were you bit?" the man demanded after the gate was shut and we were out of harms way. I looked up at him, still struggling to catch my breath and gather my bearings. "Were you bit!" he screamed.

"No," I gasped, examining myself quickly, before turning my attention to Brooke, who sat wide eyed, clearly in shock. "Brookie, did they get you?" I demanded. She shook her head and crawled over to me, so I could see for myself. "Thank god," I whispered, then looked up at the man. The short haired woman was now at his side, her eyes showing nothing but concern, unlike her partners, whose eyes burned with both concern and hatred.

"Thank you," I whispered. Misha let out a low bark before pawing the ground, her ears pinned against her skull.

"Meesh, it's okay, they can't get in here," I told the dog. She whined, but sat down, her body relaxing ever so slightly. "Right?" I added, turning my attention to the pair in front of me.

"Right," the man said.

I took a few more minutes to gather my thoughts, before forcing myself to my feet. I let the duffel fall to the ground with a thud, overly aware that it had been the only thing keeping us alive for the last six months.

"So don't mind my asking, but who the hell are you people?" I asked. Brooke stood behind me, her tiny hands gripping at my legs. Misha paid no attention to the exchange, her tail thumping against the grass softly, her tongue lolling to the side, for once, completely relaxed.

"I'm Carol, and this is Daryl," the woman said softly. She smiled at Brooke and waved.

"Nice to meet you Carol and Daryl. I'm Kay and this here's Brooklyn," I said, smiling down at my daughter. "She's a little shy, we haven't seen any one in a long time," I added. "Well, aside from Eaters," I added as an after thought.

"How long have you been traveling like this?" Carol asked.

"'Bout six or seven months. We had a truck before then," I explained. "Only reason we managed to get this far, was 'cause of Misha here. She led the way," I added, running a hand through her thick fur. "She saved our lives," I whispered.

"How the hell did that dog not get bit?" Daryl challenged.

"She's fast," I shrugged. "And stinks as bad as the Eaters do."

"Mommy?" Brooke interrupted.

"Yeah babygirl?" I asked, knelling next to her.

"I'm sleepy," she sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"Come here," I smiled. She crawled into my lap, her head resting on my shoulder.

"I can't thank you both enough," I whispered, looking up at Carol and Daryl. "Are you two alone here?"

"No, there's about ten others," Carol said softly. "And no need to thank us, child."

"I owe my life to you two," I said softly. I hugged Brooklyn tightly. "My daughter's too."

"Come on, Rick's gonna want to see you," Daryl puffed, starting towards the prison.

"Is he always so grouchy?" I asked Carol as I threw the duffel over my shoulder, picked Brooke up, and followed the pair through the prison doors.

"Yes," she smiled softly.

Misha stopped at the doorway, her ears perked. She let out a low growl, sniffing the air. She sat down, growled again, then turned, so her back was to me. I walked over to her, letting my free hand rub her head. "Come on, old girl, let's get some sleep, you can keep watch inside," I told her. She looked up at me, growled again, this time, laying down, her head resting on her dirty paws. "Suit yourself," I sighed, too tired to fight with a dog.

We made our way through the twisting corridors. I couldn't help but be on edge. This group of people...these survivors, were the first living people we encountered in over a year and I was loosing hope that there were anymore out there. If it had taken this long to find survivors, what hope was there that there were more out there?

"Stay here," Daryl grunted as he walked over to a locked cell block. I made note that a young boy unlocked it and let Daryl pass. Carol stayed with me and Brooke.

"She looks exhausted," she said, nodding at Brooke.

"It's been a long, long year," I whispered, not having the heart to wake the sleeping child. "She's been through a lot."

"We all have," Carol said softly. She smiled and offered to take Brooke.

"It's okay, I've got her," I argued. "I'm so used to holding her, it doesn't even bother me anymore," I said honestly. More times than not, my young daughter was either in my arms or on my back. It made her feel safe, and made it a lot easier to stay quiet and out of sight of Eaters.

"You look ready to drop," Carol noted as I swayed from one foot to another.

"I'm beyond exhausted," I admitted. "When we had the truck, it was easy. We could sleep without too much fear. Ever since the accident, we've had to be on red alert all the time," I knelt down, letting my weight fall heavily against the wall. My spine connected with the hard stone, sending a shot of pain through my entire body. I shifted my weight so Brooke could rest easily in my arms, her tiny, thin frame fitting perfectly into my lap.

"You, get over here," Daryl called a few minutes later. As I was about to stand, I heard Misha let out a loud, panicked bark. Brooke woke up quickly, her tiny hands gripping at my shoulders.

"Brooke, stay here," I said after a moment's hesitation. Daryl was next to me in what seemed like seconds flat. I put Brooke on the floor, tossed the duffel to one side, and ran out of the door, my knife gripped tightly in my hands.

It didn't take long to find the frightened dog. She was stuck between two pieces of bent medal, her collar stuck on a piece sticking out. I sighed and quickly untangled her. She whined, pressed her head against my face, then proceeded to walk away, in the direction of the cell block.

"That dog of yours, how long have you had her?" Daryl asked.

"Three years, she was my husband's dog," I sighed. "I'm sorry about her. But I wasn't going to leave her behind."

"She seems smarter than most mutts," he grunted.

"She is. She was trained for search and rescue, hunting, and drug busts," I smiled. "Guess she's trained to track Eaters too now," I added.

"Eaters?" Daryl asked, momentarily confused. "Oh, you mean Walkers."  
"Eaters, Walkers, Zombies, it's all the same," I sighed. We made it back to the cell in record time.

"Rick," Daryl called as soon as we closed the door behind us.

"This her?" the man asked. He was tall, with a desperate look on his face. In his arms, laid a young infant.

"How old's your baby?" I asked before Daryl could answer.

"A few weeks, why?" the man asked.

"I have something that'll help her," I said quickly. I knelt next to the duffel, ignoring Misha as she tried to stick her nose in the bag. After a few minutes of rummaging through what little we had left, I found what I was looking for. "Picked it up a few weeks back, when we hit a mini-mart that still had a few useful things left. Couldn't for the life of me figure out why," I said as I slowly walked towards him, carrying a small diaper bag filled with diapers, wipes, formula and bottles. "Figured worse comes worse, it'd keep Brooke going a few more days," I shrugged.

"Are you sure?" he looked surprised.

"Your friends took me in, the least I could do is repay the favor," I smiled. I glanced at my sleeping daughter and sighed. "I'll trade you the stuff for your baby, if you can spare a glass of water? My daughter..."

"Sure, sure," the man said with a sad smile. "I'm Rick," he quickly introduced himself.

"I'm Kay, and that there is Brooklyn," I said before walking back over to my sleeping daughter.

"Brookie, wake up baby," I said softly. She groaned and swatted at my hand. "Brooke, come on, just wake up long enough to have a drink of water."

"I'm sleepy," she mumbled. I sighed and picked her up. Misha pressed against my leg, helping me balance.

"Rick, you can't make them sleep out here," Carol said softly. She laid a hand on my back, her eyes sad.

"I wouldn't dare to. Come on," he said as he unlocked the cell block's bars, stepping aside so we could pass.

That night, for the first night in what seemed like a lifetime, both Brooke and myself managed to snatch up a handful of undisturbed sleep. I could vaguely remember Rick introducing us to the rest of the group, before offering us blankets and water. He was a nice enough man, far kinder than Daryl, but he was disturbed. Carol told me he recently lost his wife. That their daughter, Judy, and son, Carl, were the only things keeping him going.

I felt bad for the man, but in the same breath, I knew exactly what he was going through. I was beginning to believe that Lucas was dead. Or worse.

To think, now a days, there's something worse than being dead. Being alive again.

_Lucas, I'm losing faith in you. I never thought that could happen. But I'm beginning to think you didn't make it. I hope I'm wrong. Prove me wrong. _

* * *

_A/N- I've never attempted to write a fan-fiction about The Walking Dead before, so any and all feedback is welcomed. Decided it was about time to give it a go, so here it is.  
_


	2. Chapter 1

_Lucas, I'm done trying to keep track of time. I'm done trying to keep my faith in you alive. I love you, but I won't be writing to you anymore. It's harder to believe you're alive, than accept that you're dead. Maybe you'll prove me wrong. I hope you do. Because we love you. Your daughter cries for you every morning, begging me to bring you back. I can't do that. I'm not God. I love you, Lucas, wherever you are._

"Someone's going to have to go out and get more supplies soon. Before it gets any worse out there," Rick said as I joined the group early the next morning. Brooke had woken up with a bad cough a few hours prior, and it had taken a lot longer than I expected to get her to fall back to sleep.

"I'll go," I volunteered. "I have to see if I can't find any cough medicine somewhere," I added. Misha looked up, her ears perked. She had taken to Daryl faster than I thought possible. She seemed to enjoy his company, even though he had no problem giving her a slap or kick if she tried to get too friendly.

"Good luck with that," the oldest man present, Hershel, said with a shake of his head.

"I've got to try," I argued. "Anyway, someone has to go out there, might as well kill two birds with one stone."

"You need a few days to recover your strength before you go anywhere," Carol said with a motherly tone.

"Brooke could be a lot worse in a few days," I pressed. As if on cue, Brooke's cough echoed off the walls. I stood and walked over to where she was laying, both blankets wrapped tightly around her thin frame. I pressed my hand to her forehead, worried more than ever about her health.

"Hey," Daryl said suddenly. "Are you 100 percent sure she wasn't bitten?"

"There's not even a scratch on her. I made sure of that as soon as the cough started," I said, turning to look at the group.

"But if she dies, she'll turn anyway," Rick said dryly.

"Excuse me?" I growled. I stepped protectively in front of my daughter, my hand sliding to my knife.

"Calm down," a new voice said softly. I turned to see Maggie, Hershel's daughter, standing beside Rick's son. "The virus is lying dormant in every single one of us. If your daughter had been bitten, then the fever and cough would be the first sign that she was turning. But even though she wasn't, should whatever she does have kill her, she'd turn. Regardless of how someone dies, when they die, they turn."

"I don't believe you," I growled. Drawing my knife, I took a step towards her. Before I had a chance to do any damage, strong arms wrapped around my chest, pulling me back, while another locked around my legs, rendering me completely powerless.

"Calm down!" Rick barked, pushing my face into the ground. I took a few deep breaths, stopped struggling, and eventually, the anger resided, leaving me feeling helpless and scared. "You calm now?" he asked after a few more minutes.

"Yeah. I'm calm," I spat. He let go of me and let me get to my feet.

I thought about what they had said for a moment, my mind made up.

"Listen, that baby of yours is gonna go through formula like wild fire, and she ain't gonna last long without more. I gave y'all about two weeks supply. If that. My daughter's sick, and I ain't about to let 'er die any faster than I'm gonna watch an infant starve. Give me a few extra rounds, let me borrow a car, and I'll be back here 'fore you even notice I'm gone," I finally said. My Southern accent was all too clear at the time – not that I cared in the least. "Besides, if I don't make it back, it's not the end of the world for none of y'all. I'm not saying it's the best option, but it seems to be the only one."

"Kay, you're barely standing," Hershel said gently. "And your daughter's going to want her mother when she wakes up."  
"Brooklyn's a strong girl. I'll explain it all to her before I go," I sighed. "Besides, if she don't make it, it's not gonna be for lack of trying."

"Mommy?" Brooke's voice broke through. I knelt beside her, her tiny hand locked in mine.

"Yeah baby?" I whispered, wiping sweat from her brow.

"I'm gonna die, ain't I?" she whispered.

"No, no you ain't. Not today, not tomorrow, not never," I promised. I smiled down at her, her green eyes lacking their normal spark. "Mommy's gonna go get you some medicine, and you're gonna feel so much better."

"Okay," she smiled weakly. "Take Meesh with you."

"I will baby, I will. You go back to sleep. Maggie and Hershel and Carol will look after you while I'm gone, okay?" I said, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"Okay," she whispered. "Mama?"

"Yeah babygirl?"

"Don't die like daddy," she mumbled, then dropped off into a pitiful slumber.

"I thought your husband was still alive?" Daryl asked as I grabbed hold on Misha's tattered collar, dragging her away from the sick child.

"I haven't heard from 'im in over a year and a half. I don't know if he's alive or not," I admitted, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Now hows about those rounds?"

"You aren't going alone," Rick sighed. "We don't send no one out alone these days."

"I'm not a little girl, Rick. I made it this far, didn't I?" I said. "Besides, I'm not going alone. I've got the dog."

"The dog can't shoot a gun," he pointed out.

"No, but she makes for a great distraction, without all the noise," I argued.

"You can't even stand straight. It'd be stupid to send you out on your own," Rick pressed.

"I haven't been able to stand straight in over eight months, Rick. Stop trying to make excuses. If someone wants to come, fine and freaking dandy, but I'm not going to ask anyone to come with me," I said stubbornly.

"She's as stubborn as Daryl," Maggie's younger sister, Beth, said to Hershel. "Once they get their mind set on something, there's no stopping them."

"Damn straight," I said with a shake of my head. "I'm going, end of story."

"If you go, you're taking Daryl with you," Rick said. Daryl threw him a glance, but didn't object. "With his crossbow, you just might make it back alive."

"Again, I made it this far without any help, Rick. We managed to get through a pack of Eaters back in Georgia with no problem," I grunted. "Misha's good at leading them away from us."

"Then it'll be extra protection," Rick said, ending the matter. "We need to make a list of what you two need to pick up."

After a few minutes of deliberation, we had a fairly short list of things that were needed. I made a mental note to pick up a few bags of dog food, since Misha hadn't had a proper meal in months – and I was almost positive no one would have raided the pet food in the convenient store yet.

As I was loading my handgun with the rounds Rick had offered me, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Carol looking down at me sadly.

"How old are you?" she asked suddenly, taking me by surprise.

"Twenty-three," I said with a shake of my head, "Why?"

"You act so much older," she mused.

"We all had to grow up fast. Brooke's only five, yet you'd think she was at least 8 with how she talks," I smiled. I slid the gun into my waistband and slung the bag over my shoulder. "She's a fighter, you know. She's been through hell and high water, but keeps on fighting like the best of us," I smiled with pride. "She'll make it, I just know it."

"If she doesn't, you know she's gonna have to be put down, right?" Carol said carefully.

"I know. I'm not gonna think about that, though, okay? 'Side from Meesh, she's all I've got left." My heart ached at the realization that my daughter was knocking on hell's door. Having fought so hard to keep her alive, I had no intention on letting her go without a fight.

"You fight for that little girl, you hear me? You fight for her like there's no tomorrow," Carol demanded.

"Yes ma'am," I said with a tight smile.

"C'mon, we want to get back before the sunsets," Daryl grunted as he led the way through the corridors.

Misha followed close at my side, her ears perked, her nose twitching. She looked unhappy about going back outside, but didn't put up a fight when I pushed her into the car between Daryl and me.

"How far did you say the store was?" Daryl asked, as he drove past the Eaters, Walkers, whatever we were calling them that day.

"A few miles north. Brooke and me passed it on our way here. It's pretty picked through, but there's still some stuff on the shelves. We couldn't carry much more than we already were," I explained. "Turn here," I said after a few minutes of driving. "We're gonna need to get as close to the door as possible. Last time we had a handful of Eaters to deal with, but it wasn't too hard to get in and out without getting detected. If you pull up here," I pointed at the back door. "We'll be able to get in and out easier. The front is completely trashed, nothing useful. There was still some stock in the back though."

"You scope the whole place when you were here or something?" Daryl asked, doing as I said.

"No, I used to work for a store similar to this. The store rooms were always kept bolted after hours. I can pick a lock with no problem, s'long as you keep the damn Eaters off my ass," I laughed. "My husband, Lucas, is in the military. There ain't a lock in the world I can't pick, or a knot I can't tie for that matter."

"Sounds like you were doing pretty good on your own after all," he mused.

"We were surviving, not much else. Surviving and hiding," I shook my head. "I avoided places like cities and such, stuck to the woods and wide open farmland. Worked until we had on choice but to find real shelter," I continued.

"How'd you find the prison?" Daryl asked as he shut the car off, looking around for any flesh eating dead people.

"Used the map," I shrugged. "Figured if anywhere would be safe, that'd be the place. Figured worse came worse, lock ourselves into a cell and stay there 'till the grim reaper came aknockin'."

"Let's go," he said after seeing that we were in the clear.

I picked the lock to the back door quickly and held it open only long enough for Daryl to follow behind. I slid a board in front of it, securing it shut.

"The store room should be..." I started as I locked around. Misha's ears perked, her tail twitching. We weren't alone. "The store room's over there," I whispered. "Meesh, get in front of Daryl," I ordered. The dog did as I said with no hesitation. I could tell by the way her fur was standing on end, that she had smelled the Eaters already. We'd have to make quick work, or else fight for our lives.

"Shit," I hissed after a few minutes of picking the lock.

"What?" Daryl asked, his back pressed against mine.

"The lock's rusted, it's gonna be harder than I thought to open," I grunted. I pressed against the door, my lock pick shaking in my hands. I finally got it open, but time was already up. Misha let out a low growl as she took a step forward, teeth bared.

"Give me your bag," I demanded. Daryl did, but didn't seem too happy about it. "Don't let the damn door lock behind me," I added as I slid into the poorly lit room. I turned on my flashlight, listened carefully for any sounds. When I was fairly sure I was alone in the small room, I began throwing things into the bags. To my surprise, I found a fully stocked first aid kit, along with various medicines. Throwing them into my bag, I quickly grabbed the other items on the list. The last thing I grabbed was a 20 pound bag of dog food.

"We clear?" I asked in a hushed tone as I drug the two heavy bags, along with the dog food, to the door.

"For now," he replied.

"Good, let's get outta here," I said. I tossed him one of the bags, then slung the other over my shoulder, the dog food tucked awkwardly across my shoulders. "I'll go first," I added. I moved the board aside and opened the back door a crack. "Shit," I hissed. Misha's ears perked again, a louder growl escaping her lips.

"How many?" Daryl asked, already having read my expression.

"Ten or so, they got the car surrounded," I cursed. "I see two options," I added, giving the situation more thought. I was so used to riding solo, that the decisions came at me faster than they used to. "Either we make a break for it, and hope to God we make it, or we try and kill 'em without drawing more to the car," I continued.

"Or do both," Daryl suggested. "Let me get ahead of you," he suggested as he tossed me the keys. "Go straight to the car, I'll keep 'em off you while you get it started."

"No. I have a better idea," I said, suddenly coming up with a fool proof plan. "Don't for a second hesitate. Grab the car, get to the cross road, I'll meet you there."

"What-" he started.

"I have a plan. As soon as you can't hear Misha's barking, get to the car," I said. I unclipped Misha's collar and clipped it to the strap on Daryl's bag.

"What the hell are you planning to do?" He asked, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

"I've done it a million times, don't worry, I'll be fine," I said with a sly smile. "And if I'm not, at least you'll get back in one piece. When you fit the cross roads, wait exactly two minutes. If I'm not there, leave."

"Are you insane?" he hissed in a sharp tone.

"A little," I nodded. I pulled the gun from my waistband before I patted Misha's side. "Ready for a game of cat and mouse Meeshy?" I cooed. She let out a low, excited yip, before nudging up next to me.

"Remember, as soon as you can't hear us, head for the cross road," I said one last time. I took a moment to kiss the chain that held my wedding ring around my neck, then took off, shouting loudly.

Misha was right next to me, her fur flying madly in the gentle breeze. I fired a shot, then bolted, running as fast as my legs would carry me. Without the burden of the duffel bag, I was quick on my feet. Misha raced ahead of me, barking loudly, snapping at the Eaters as they dove at her.

It wasn't hard to keep ahead of the Eaters. They were slow moving, stumbling messes, whose only weapon was their teeth. The bigger problem, was avoiding getting surrounded. It'd happened before, and I wasn't about to risk it again. Misha let out a shrill, pained yelp, her legs collapsing as an Eater grabbed hold of her rear end.

"No one's dying today," I growled as I took careful aim. I was running out of rounds, and knew that if things got any tighter, my plan would backfire. Luckily, I knew how to shoot straight. As soon as the path was clear, I grabbed Misha's scruff and dragged her after me. She howled in pain as I pulled harder, nearly tripping over her legs as I did.

"C'mon Meeshy, we're almost there," I begged. The Eaters were only a few yards behind. Every second was precious. Breathless and bloodied, I scooped my beloved dog into my arms and half stumbled to the parked car I had noticed when we had been going the opposite direction. I leaned against it, gasping, breathless and beaten.

I made one fatal mistake. One thing I didn't account for when I made up my mind to pose as a distraction. I didn't remember to check the _car_.

* * *

_A/n- For the record, I'm not writing "Kay" as a Mary Sue. Her choice to run will be explained in the next chapter. Her daughter's "fever" also comes into play in the chapters to come. _

_Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated at this point. Thank you all for reading. :)  
_


	3. Chapter 2

I heard the all too familiar groan behind me, before I even knew what was happening. It's hand locked on my wrist, pulling me towards it with so much force, so much unnatural strength, that for a whole moment, I was mesmerized by the event unfolding before my very eyes. As his mouth opened to devour my arm, my brain snapped into action. I twisted my free hand, leveling the gun with the Eaters sunken face. With one firm pull of the trigger, I ended him before he could end me. Cursing, I grabbed Misha's scruff again and drug her to the middle of the road. I took a deep breath and listened, trying my damnedest to hear anything over the pounding of my heart. Finally, I heard an all too welcomed sound of tires on gravel.

I waved, making sure he saw me, before I bent down and collected Misha into my arms, all too aware of the bite on her back. She looked at me with sad eyes, painful yips escaping her lips.

"What happened?" Daryl asked as he pulled up next to me, motioning towards the dog.

"She got bit," I sighed. I opened the door and laid Misha on the seat, examining the wound.

"She ain't riding in my car," Daryl said sharply.

"She sure as hell is," I growled. "She isn't infected," I added as an after thought.

"She was bit," he said, pointing at the ragged wound.

"And she's not gonna turn, it's not the first time she's been bit," I shrugged.

"Come again?" he blinked, confused.

"How far ahead are we?" I asked, looking back the way he came.

"Get in, you can explain while I drive," he muttered. I carefully moved the large dog so she was half on my lap, as I quickly tore my shirt to work as a bandage until we got back to the prison.

"Misha got bit the day I crashed the truck. I'd managed to dislocate my shoulder and was struggling to carry Brooke and the duffel. So Misha, being protective like always, covered me as we ran as best we could. An Eater came out of no where and grabbed her before I could take aim. Thankfully, it didn't kill her," I rubbed the dog's head, smiling down at her sad eyes. "Anyway, I thought the same way you do, if it's bit, it's a walking time bomb. I found Brooke and me somewhere safe to hold up for a what I thought was going to be a few nights and tied Misha to a tree clear across from us. I kept her there for three weeks, throwing her food and carefully pushing a bowl of water to her. She just looked at me like I was insane the whole time. By the third week, I figured it was safe to untie her. Worse comes worse, I'd have to put 'er down. I removed the makeshift bandage, and Lord and behold, she was all healed up. I 'member she wagged her tail and cuddled up next to Brooke, overjoyed to finally have her humans back." I looked at Daryl who gave me a funny look. "You notice you don't see any zombified animals walking around?"

"Just figured that if a Walker got a hold of an animal, they didn't leave enough for it to reanimate," he shrugged.

"Maybe. Or maybe animals are immune? Dogs are at least," I said with a sly smile. "You really think I'd run around like a lunatic if I wasn't sure we could pull it off?" I laughed. Misha wagged her tail, letting me know she was doing alright.

"I thought you were just suicidal or something," Daryl admitted with a small smile.

"Eh, I've got a kid to think about. If I was in it alone, I woulda put a bullet in my head months ago," I laughed.

Once we reached the prison, I quickly shifted my weight so Misha wouldn't have to jump out of the car.

"What happened to you?" Rick asked as soon as the gate was closed behind us and I was out of the car with Misha in my arms.

"Oh you know, decided to take a huge risk to get back here alive," I smiled. "I'll explain as soon as I tend to my dog, my daughter, and my back," I added over my shoulder. "Daryl's bag has everything you asked for," I shouted as I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and jogged through the open door.

"Jesus, are you okay?" Carol exclaimed when I dropped the bag loudly on the floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine, so's Daryl," I said, nodding towards the door.

I laid Misha down on the ground and quickly poured a bottle of water into a bowl for her to drink while I tended to Brooke.

"How long has she been this warm?" I asked Hershel who watched me like a hawk.

"An hour or so," he said softly. "Kay, it's bad, you know that, right?"

"I know," I said with a nod. I quickly poured the recommended dose of the children's cold and flu medicine I had grabbed, and forced my sick daughter to sit up long enough to drink it. She smiled at me weakly before dropping off again.

"What happened out there?" Rick asked again as I turned my attention to Misha. I quickly filled him in on what happened, then went on to explain my theory to the group.

"No way. We're not keeping that dog in here," Rick said when I was done.

"I'll make a deal with you. Let me lock her in a cell for a few days. Theory is if someone's bit they turn within the first few hours, right?" I said cautiously.

"Right?" Rick looked at me with wide eyes.

"I'll lock her in a cell for half a week. If she doesn't die or turn after that, you have to let me let her back out," I suggested calmly.

"The dog risked it's life as much as she did, to make sure supplies got back here," Daryl came to my defense quickly. He caught me completely off guard and for a whole minute, I stared at him dumbly.

"He's right," I said softly, still recovering from the shock. "If I didn't have Misha, there's no way I would have ran – much less successfully."

"If she turns, then what?" Rick said stubbornly. "I've got kids to think about, Kay, we can't have an infected dog around."

I thought about the situation as I looked down at my forever faithful friend.

"Then I reckon we'll be on our way," I sighed as I finally made up my mind. "We'll leave first thing in the morning."

"You can't be serious," Carol said as she motioned towards Brooke. "That child needs rest, among other things. She won't last out there. Are you really willing to sacrifice her for a damn dog?"

"That damn dog is the only thing keeping us alive," I said with a shake of my head. "I ain't like it, but I know exactly what to expect with my dog. I know she ain't turnin' and I know she's no more of a danger to the kids than all the guns laying around. But I also know what it's like to be a parent. And I ain't 'bout to argue with Rick."

"Rick, she risked her life for us," Glenn said as his gaze shifted between the two of us. "Don't we owe her a chance?"

"You all don't owe me nothing," I said quickly before anyone else could answer. "Carol and Daryl risked their safety getting us in here, Daryl risked his life helpin' me get medicine for my daughter. That there is more than enough," I said as I knelt beside Misha, my fingers slowly picking the dried blood from her fur. "It's Rick's call. Either Misha stays, or the three of us go."

"Now wait just a minute. I'm not about to let you take your daughter back out there, I'd be stupid to even consider it," Rick sighed. He knelt beside me, his eyes locked on Misha. "Are you certain she poses no threat?"

"As certain as anything is in this world," I nodded. "And if I'm wrong, I'm not afraid to put her down," I added quickly. "But I'm not wrong. She's been bit before."

"Then we'll do it your way. Lock her in a cell, and wait," he finally said. "But if she turns, you're dealing with it."

"Alright then," I said as I stood, carefully scooping Misha into my arms. She let out a pained yelp, before relaxing, her head rested heavily on my shoulder.

I carried her to the farthest cell in the block and laid her down on a ratty blanket. She looked up at me with sad eyes, but made no attempt to move.

"I'll be back in a few hours to change your bandage," I told her softly as I poured a pile of kibble on the floor and pushed a bowl of water as close to her as possible. "Don't you worry, Meeshy, it'll be over soon enough."

The young dog watched me with a sad expression as I slid the metal bars shut, locking her into the cell, where she would remain until we were certain she wasn't going to turn.

I took the long way back to the group, my back aching from the months of carrying Brooklyn, my body sore and bruised, my thin bones aching with every movement. I became overly aware of the awful state I was in, my once light brown hair, now caked with dried blood, dirt, and god only knew what else. My hands, which used to be stable and strong, now shaking, weak and scarred. I looked down at the jeans I had been wearing for somewhere near six months. Shaking my head, I went over to Brooke and sat down, ready for another long night.

"How's she doing?" Rick asked some time later as he offered me a bowl of beans as a peace offering.

"Her fever broke not too long ago," I said tiredly. "But now she's got the chills," I added, pulling the blanket tighter around my sleeping daughter. I groaned as I stretched my legs out in front of me. Even that small action sent shivers of pain up my spine.

"You look exhausted," he said gently.

"No one said nursing a sick child back to health would be easy," I laughed as I slid the bowl aside. Even though I hadn't had much in the way of food in ages, I wasn't hungry.

"That sure is true," he agreed, a thin smile forming on his lips. "How's the dog?"

"Pissed that she's locked in a giant cage, but very much alive," I smiled. "She wants to patrol like she normally does at night, I don't blame her for being pissed."

"She really is gonna be okay, isn't she?" Rick asked, realization finally dawning on him.

"I told you, animals seem to be immune," I said with a shrug. "Or maybe Misha's just a freak of nature. Whatever the reason, she hasn't turned yet, and I can almost promise you, she won't." I yawned tiredly and forced myself to my feet.

"Where are you going?" he asked, glancing down at Brooke.

"For a walk. If I sit still any longer, I'm gonna fall asleep," I said. I grabbed my knife from on top of my bag and slid it into my waist band. "Brooke's gonna be asleep for a while, figure I might as well do something useful in the meantime."

"You should sleep," Rick said as he walked beside me, his face masking whatever he was feeling.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," I joked, then stopped. "Or not, I guess," I said innocently with wide eyes.

"Very funny," he said with a shake of his head.

I walk up the iron staircase and stood beside Daryl who was watching the group like a hawk.

"Thanks for coming to my defense earlier," I said lightly as I leaned against the metal railing.

"Don't mention it," he shrugged, never taking his gaze off of Carol and the rest.

I continued to the cell Misha was locked in before carefully unlocking it. I opened the gate slowly, my eyes locked on Misha's body.

"Misha?" I called softly before entering the cell. She looked up, her tail silently thumping against the cement floor.

She laid still as I carefully peeled the bandage aside, the deep bite wound now clotted, matted fur sticking up at odd angles. I carefully poured a bit of water on the wound, smiling to myself at how strong my dog was. After making sure the wound was as clean as it could possibly be under such circumstances, I wrapped a clean cloth around her midsection, making sure to tie it without hurting her. She licked my hand softly as I sat beside her.

"You really aren't afraid of her?" a young voice chimed. I looked up to find Rick's son, Carl, standing outside the gate.

"Not one bit," I laughed. "I already went through the paranoid, pre-zombie phase with her," I added. "She'll be fine in a couple days."

"Then why did you agree to lock her up?" he asked with wide eyes.

"To put your dad's mind at ease," I said with a shrug. "I would have demanded the same thing if the tables were turned."

"Oh."

I stood up soon after he left and decided it was time to go back to Brooke. When I got to her, I was surprised to see her sitting up.

"Brooke?" I called softly. She looked at me with wide eyes, her skin pale. "Brooklyn?" I called again, this time, a little louder.

"M-mom?" she squeaked.

"Oh babygirl," I said as I rushed to her side, wrapping my arms around her protectively. She returned my hug, then looked at me with a confused expression on her face.

"I'm thirsty," she said innocently.

In that moment, those simple two words, gave me hope. Hope that my daughter would recover and be just fine. Hope that my husband was still alive, somewhere, looking for us. Hope, that we'd make it, even if humanity was at it's knees. We'd make it. We had to.

_Day 400 and something,_

_Lucas, I wish you were here right now. I wish you could see how far we've come, how brave little Brooklyn has been. How strong. I wish you were here. Just to let us know it was okay. _


	4. Chapter 3

_Day 6 since reaching the prison,_

_Lucas, are you out there? I'm missing you more than ever these days. Brooke's better. She's still weak but she's better. If only you'd give us some sign, some little glimmer of hope, that you're still alive, then everything would be perfect..._

It took almost a week for Brooke to fully recover, but before long, she was running around and having a grand old time in the prison, playing with the rag dolls I managed to stitch together for her and chasing Misha from cell to cell. As expected, Misha's wound healed in record time, and Rick was more than pleased to have been proven wrong.

"Mommy!" Brooke's shrill cry startled me from my work. I had been mending everyone's clothing the last few days, since it was one of the few talents I had. Plus, I had sewing material left over.

"Where are you Brooklyn?" I called, scanning the cell block. It was large, but not big enough for Brooke to get lost. Rick and Daryl looked up when they realized I had no idea where she was.

"She was up there last I saw her," Rick said, pointing at the landing that served as a lookout.

"Brooke!" I shouted, my call echoing back at me a moment later.

"Mommy!" She screamed. Misha looked up from her perch next to Rick's son. Her ears perked as she sniffed the air.

"C'mon Meesh, let's find her," I said as I slapped the dog's side. She took off up the stairs, her ears pointed forwards.

"Mommy! HELP!"

I snatched the gun from my waist band and proceeded carefully, but quickly. Rick and Daryl had followed me, both wielding weapons of their own.

"Misha, where is she?" I called to the dog. Misha stood stone still, her ears flat against her skull, a silent growl forming on her lips. I knew that look all to well.

I ran past the dog and yelped with surprise. Brooke was staring at what seemed like an empty cell, her small body trembling.

"Brooke, I'm right here," I said gently as I wrapped my arm around her protectively.

"Mommy," she said in a shaking voice as she pointed in the cell. I followed her finger and gasped. I ranked her away from the cell, accidentally backing right into Daryl, who grunted.

"Brooke, go back downstairs and stand by Carol, okay?" I ordered. She looked at me for a moment, then did as I said. Misha followed her like an obedient sheepdog.

"What is it?" Rick asked, having yet to see it.

"I thought you said this cell block was secure?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"It is," Daryl said, stepping in front of me so he could get a better look.

Standing in the cell, looking...well freakishly hungry, stood an Eater, his eyes bloodshot and blurry, his face haggard and frail looking. In a way, I almost felt bad for it.

"How the hell..." Rick's curse faded as Daryl made a quick end to the monster.

"Jesus Christ," I gasped as I turned away. I shook my head bitterly.

"Your kid wasn't bit, was she?" Daryl asked, throwing a knowing look in my direction.

"She would have been wailing if she had," I said with a shake of my head. "She's fine. I think it scared her more than anything else."

"I thought your dog had a nose for Walkers?" Rick grumbled.

"She does, but we're not exactly the freshest smelling group in the world. Smells are all screwy in here as it is," I shrugged. "She would have found it eventually. It wasn't really posing a risk to anyone, anyway."

"It would have been if it pushed the gate open. It wasn't locked," Daryl said, pulling the gate open to prove his point.

"Jesus Christ," I said again. "How the hell did you miss that?"

"We didn't," Rick said defensively.

"It just walked itself in here, without trying to eat our faces off, locked itself in a cell, and decided to wait patiently for someone to find it?" I asked skeptically.

"Uh."

I walked away shaking my head, but grateful that my daughter was fine. I found her sitting on the floor playing with the dolls, Misha watching over her protectively.

"Mommy, when's daddy gonna be here?" she asked innocently when she saw me approach.

"I don't know, Brookie," I said with a sigh. "Eventually, if luck has it."

"Can we go look for him? Maybe he can't get past the Eaters," she said, her innocent voice sending a shiver up my spine.

"How about I make a deal with you. If you clean up your toys and take Misha for a quick run around the cell block, I'll go outside and see if I can't spot him?" I said, figuring it was easier to fuel her hope than tell her what I was really thinking.

"Okay," she squealed with delight.

"Stay where everyone can see you though, okay?" I added as I grabbed my jacket from it's perch on the railing.

"Okay," she said with a huge smile. "Oh, bring Meeeeesha with you. She can smell Daddy," she said suddenly, letting the dog's name drag on far longer than normal. "Meeeeeeeeesha!" she called in a sweet, innocent tone that only a child could possess. "Go with mommy to bring Daddy home!"

Misha looked at me with confusion, but did as Brooke told her.

"I'd rather you keep the dog with you, sweetheart," I said softly.

"No, I'll be okay," she giggled. She raced off, playing tag with her invisible friend. For a moment, I had forgotten that my daughter was young, both in body and spirit. She could entertain herself for hours, without a care in the world.

"I'll come with you," Daryl offered, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

"Sure," I shrugged as I went through my bag in search of the hand held radio I kept charged in case we needed it. Of course, will all telecommunication pretty much gone, I knew it was a useless effort, but I did it anyway, out of habit.

I led the way this time, Misha at my heels, her tail wagging at the fact she was finally free to walk around with people again.

"You really think your husband's still alive?" Daryl asked once we got outside.

I thought about the question for a long time before answering. "I think he was better suited than most to survive. But he had a huge heart. If he's dead, I'm sure it's because he tried to help someone else."

"That doesn't answer the question," he said softly.

"I think..." I couldn't stop the tears from falling from my eyes. "I think if Lucas was alive, he would have found us by now. I think he would have sent a message at the very least. I'm beginning to believe-" I was cut off by a familiar sound. I looked up and walked slowly to the center of the fenced in lot.

"Daryl, look!" I pointed in the direction of the trees Brooke and I had come through a week earlier.

"What am I looking at?" he asked, squinting.

"Wait for it," I said softly. Half a minute later, a small spot of light flickered.

"Who do you think it is?" he asked watching for the light to flicker again.

"Lucas? A stranger? Who knows. But I haven't seen any Eaters carrying flashlights these last few months," I said with a shrug.

I grabbed hold of Misha's collar and led her closer to the fence, keeping her out of harms way in the process. "It's Morse Code," I said after a few moments. "Give me a second," I added as I knelt down, keeping my eyes locked in the direction of the light. I outlined the message in the dirt, trying to memorize the dashes, which were represented as long pauses of light, and the dots, which were represented as quick bursts.

"How do you know?" Daryl asked, watching me work.

"Lucas made sure I knew it, in the event that we were ever...Actually, I don't know why he made me learn Morse Code, no one uses it anymore. Well, until now I guess," I said quickly, still concentrating on the light. "Misha, warning call," I commanded the dog after the flashes and blinks stopped. She tilted her head back and let out a high pitched, loud, howl that chilled me to the core. I recognized the last set of dashes and dots as "thank you."

"What was the message?" Daryl asked. I pointed at the dots and dashes I drew in the dirt.

"If I'm remembering correctly, and I really think I am, the message is 'help me, I was bitten, I think I am dying'" I said softly. "Do you have a flashlight with you?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah," he said as he handed me it. I turned it on, and after several moments of flashes and blinks, I asked the person 'what is your name?'

The returning message surprised me, to say the least.

"His name is..." my voice caught in my throat, "Private First Class Marshal Green."

"Do you know him?" Daryl asked cautiously.

"Yes," I whispered, nodding quickly. "He was in my husband's company."

I flicked the flashlight back on and asked the question that had been on my mind since everything started over 18 months ago.

'Is my husband dead?'

The reply will haunt me for the rest of my life.

"-. - .-.-.- .- - .-. ... . .-.-.-"

* * *

_A/n- Not as long as my normal chapters, but I really wanted to let this one end on a cliffhanger. _

_Yes, I used real Morse Code for the last sentence. I actually do know a few things in MC, not much, but some. :P I figured it'd be fun to incorporate it into my story a little. As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Happy Weekend everyone! Don't forget, The Walking Dead returns to AMC Sunday night!  
_


	5. Chapter 4

My heart stopped. My vision blurred. My entire world fell apart, in the matter of seconds. Gasping, I let go of Misha's collar, my hands covering my face as ragged sobs broke free of my lips.

"Kay? What did he say?" Daryl asked, taken aback by how quickly my mood changed.

Misha, on the other hand, seemed to sense what had happened. She sat down and turned her head to the sky, a long, sad howl escaping her lips. She lowered her head after a moment and bowed into a silent, sad look.

It took me nearly an hour to finally come to terms with what I had learned. If Private First Class Green had made it this far, that must mean that Lucas had been close when he turned. He must have been trying to find us. He must have been...

Misha let out a low bark before nipping my lightly on the arm. I looked up and saw that the sun was setting behind the trees. Daryl was silently watching the Eaters as they clawed at the fence, his face emotionless. I silently thanked him for giving me a moment to grieve. After a few more tears fell, I finally stood, wiped the tears from my eyes, and laid a hand on his arm, to catch his attention.

"What happened?" he asked, looking down at me.

"Lucas is..." I couldn't get the words to come out right. "Lucas is dead...or not dead, or whatever the hell we're calling it," I stammered. "And Green isn't far behind him." I added, looking towards the trees. No more flickers or blinks came. I sighed sadly and shook my head.

"I'm sorry," Daryl said wholeheartedly.

"Me too," I sighed as I started towards the prison. "I'm even more sorry that I get to ruin my daughter's life. Again."

* * *

The hardest thing a mother will ever do, is tell her daughter that she will never see her father again. Even as the words left my lips, I wished I could take them back. Brooke looked at me with wide eyes, her face going sickly pale as she slowly comprehended what I had said.

"You mean..." she choked back tears. "You mean daddy..." her lips began to tremble as tears fell from her eyes. "is dead?" she wailed.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl," I whispered. I hugged her tightly as my own tears soaked into her messy hair.

"It's not fair, mommy!" she wailed, her tiny fists gripping the front of my shirt.

"I know sweetie, I know," I whispered into her hair. "But you want to know what?" I tilted her face up so she was looking me in the eyes.

"What?" she sniffled.

"Daddy's in heaven now, watching over you, just like he did since the day you were born," I said, forcing a fake smile. "Daddy wouldn't want you to cry, he'd want you to be strong and brave, and remember that he's always with you where it matters most."

"I want him here!" she wailed. "You promised!" she got up and ran away, her tiny feet making soft padding noises across the concrete.

"You're right, I did promise," I sighed as I stood up, dusting the dirt off my pants. I walked over to where Misha was relaxing, her tail thumping softly against the floor. She looked at me as I passed, before turning her attention back to Daryl, who was messing with his crossbow.

"You good?" he asked as I passed.

"Yeah," I shrugged as I kept walking. I was trying to find Brooke without bothering anyone else. I knew my daughter, and knew she wouldn't go too far. At least, I hoped she wouldn't.

I found her a short time later, curled up next to Carl who was telling her a story. I smiled and let them be. If Carl could keep her giggling, that was enough for me.

I wandered around, trying to find something to keep my mind busy, when I remembered the journal I had been keeping, writing to Lucas every morning.

I pulled it from underneath my bag and smiled sadly. I ran my hand across the tattered, tear stained cover, before flipping it open. Most of the pages were smudged and torn from the hell the book had gone through, but stuck between the last two pages, was our family photo. Brooke was only 2 in the photo. Lucas's bright green eyes were filled with life and happiness. He was wearing a bright red suit, that matched mine and Brooke's bright red dresses. I remembered the day the photo was taken, I remembered how hard it had been to keep Brooke still long enough for the photo to be shot. I remembered the laughter and hours of smiles that followed. I remembered the dinner afterwards. The movie we watched on television. Every moment of that day, would be remembered until the day I died.

I looked at the ratty pages of the journal, and made a decision.

_Day 400+, Day 6 at the Prison, Day 1 of knowing you were dead. Or undead. Or whatever,_

_Lucas, I'll never forget the times we shared. The memories we made, the beautiful little girl we created. I'll never forget the sound of your voice, the feel of your touch, the warmth you brought into my life. I'll hold those memories close, until the day I die. Whether it be tomorrow or a year from now, I'll remember. I'll keep on fighting, just like you told me to. And I'll protect Brooklyn at all costs. I have closure in a way, now, and I'm thankful. I'm thankful to finally have answers. _

_I won't write anymore. I'll burn the journal if Rick let's me. Maybe I'll let the ashes fly free, as a way of closing this chapter of our lives. I know I'll cry. I'll cry and hate the world, but not today. Today, I'm going to be grateful. For our daughter's health. Our dog's loyalty and obedience, the kindness of this group, in our time of need, and the answer to the question I have been asking since the day this all started._

_Today, I'll be grateful. _

_I love you, Lucas Riley. I love you, always have, always will. _

_And if I ever see you, I'll do what has to be done. I'll put you down._

_Always and Forever,_

_Kaylee Marie Scott-Riley_

I closed the journal and smiled sadly as a single tear fell from my eyes. I tied a thick piece of wire around it, bounding the book shut forever. As I stood, I felt a great weight lift off my shoulders. As I walked back to the group, where people were talking softly among themselves, Brooke leaning against Carl in the corner, Rick watching them like a hawk. Daryl held baby Judith in his arms, Carol was talking to Glenn and Maggie. The sight made me smile, seeing how everyone was turning a shitty situation into something halfway decent.

I walked over to Daryl and gently ran a finger over Judy's cheek. She cooed sweetly, her eyes shining with baby curiosity.

"She's a cutie-pie," I said softly.

"Mommy, isn't that Daddy's journal?" Brooke called from her spot against Carl.

"Yeah," I said softly, the smile still lingering on my face. "If it's okay with you," I said, directing my question at Rick. "I'd like to burn it tomorrow morning, in the middle of the lot," I said with a sad smile.

"I think that'd be just fine," he said sincerely. I nodded and walked over to Brooke. I picked her up and held her in a tight hug.

"You remember the song we used to sing you when you couldn't sleep?" I asked, sitting down against the wall.

"You used to sing a lot of songs," she said innocently.

"The one Daddy always loved to sing, no matter what the problem was, remember that one?" I kissed her forehead as she thought about it.

"Arms wide open, right? By um...uh..." she looked at me for help.

"By Creed," I said with a nod. "It was your dad's favorite song."

"Sing it for me?" she asked with a sad smile. She nuzzled her head into my chest, her eyes pleading. I couldn't help but smile.

"Sure," I said softly. I shifted my weight so I could look into her eyes while I sang.

"Well I just heard the news today  
It seems my life is going to change  
I closed my eyes, begin to pray  
Then tears of joy stream down my face," I smiled as everyone stopped what they were doing to listen. Brooke smiled brightly, her little hands holding onto mine tightly.

"With arms wide open  
Under the sunlight  
Welcome to this place  
I'll show you everything  
With arms wide open  
With arms wide open," we sang together. Her smile widened, and for a whole moment, I forgot the tragedy we just encountered a few short hours ago.

"Well I don't know if I'm ready  
To be the man I have to be  
I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side  
We stand in awe, we've created life," Rick sang softly, a smile crossing his face.

"I didn't know you liked Creed," I smiled as I hugged Brooke closely.

"With arms wide open

Under the sunlight

Welcome to this place

I'll show you everything

With arms wide open

Now everything has changed  
I'll show you love  
I'll show you everything  
With arms wide open  
With arms wide open  
I'll show you everything ...oh yeah  
With arms wide open..wide open" I whispered, my eyes locked on the beautiful child nestled in my arms.

"If I had just one wish  
Only one demand  
I hope he's not like me  
I hope he understands  
That he can take this life  
And hold it by the hand  
And he can greet the world  
With arms wide open..." I whispered, my voice cracking. Brooke looked up at me, a sleepy smile on her lips as she quietly sang,

"With arms wide open  
Under the sunlight  
Welcome to this place  
I'll show you everything,"

"With arms wide open  
Now everything has changed  
I'll show you love  
I'll show you everything  
With arms wide open  
With arms wide open  
I'll show you everything..oh yeah  
With arms wide open...wide open" I finished, planting a kiss on her head.

"Mommy?" she asked tiredly.

"Yeah babygirl?" I asked, rubbing circles in her back.

"Do you really think Daddy's watching over us?" she asked with a yawn.

"Absolutely," I lied. "Now, you little miss, need to get some sleep."

"Okay mommy," she said with a small nod. I picked her up and carried her over to the makeshift bed, laying her gently on the thick blanket. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. Misha walked over and laid down beside her, wagging her tail happily.

"You watch over her, you hear?" I said with a quick pat to the top of her head.

"I thought you came from the South?" Rick asked as I walked back to the group.

"I did," I said with a shrug. "Just 'cause I'm from the South doesn't mean I was raised on country," I said with a small smile.

"I'm just surprised that was the song of choice for a lullaby," he laughed, holding his hands up in defeat.

"Lucas loved that song," I said as I sat down against the wall. "It suited him too."

I spaced out after that. Had we been outside, in the middle of the wreckage, we'd probably have died. Instead, I found myself drifting, slowly slipping to a simpler time, when zombies were just a movie character, where my husband would call every night, just to tell us he loved us. Where my parents were safe, my daughter able to grow up like a normal child.

Suddenly, I found myself laughing. Laughing at how screwed up life became.

"She's losing it," I vaguely recall a voice stating.

"She just found out her husband is dead, she deserves to lose it," another said, as if I wasn't even there.

I guess I really wasn't. I laughed bitterly, tears rolling down my cheeks as I pretended I was at home, waking up from the most freakishly real dream ever. I stared at the ceiling, only it wasn't a ceiling anymore, it was a beautiful, bright blue sky. Little puffs of clouds drifted by. Birds chirped. Laughter. Bright, insanely bright, beautiful laughter.

Insanity. I actually welcomed that. Blissful, innocent, beautiful. Insanity.

* * *

_A/n- The song quoted was "With Arms Wide Open" by Creed. I don't own that. Haha._

_Anyway, I'm on a roll, and figured, I'll upload as I go. :) Yay, Crazy Kay. _


	6. Chapter 5

"Should I slap her?" a voice said with total seriousness. I blinked like a newborn baby, staring blankly at the face in front of me.

"Uh," another answered.

"Kay, Kay?" a female's voice called. I blinked again, laughter filling my chest.

"She's snapped," another voice.

_All those voices. Who were these people? Why are they hovering over me? Why? Where the hell am I anyway? Why are they blocking my view of the birds and rainbows and clouds?_

_Wait. That's not right. Rainbows? Snap out of it Kay, you're losing your mind._

_Oh shut up. It's better than dealing, right?_

_Right?_

_At least here, the sun is always shining. The days never end. _

_Wait. What year is it?_

…

_August 15, 2007, _

"_It's good to finally hold you, Brooklyn Mariah Riley, after all these months," Lucas said softly as he held our precious, tiny daughter in his arms for the very first time. "You have your mama's nose."_

"_And your daddy's eyes," I said softly as I watched the two. They looked perfect together. The way he held her was adorable. _

"_She's absolutely perfect," he whispered as he rocked the tiny infant in his arms. "Just like her mama."_

…

"_Kaylee, I'll find you, I promise. I promise. Get somewhere safe. Shoot, find the nearest base. Actually, no, don't do that. Find somewhere safe."_

…

"_No. Worse."_

…

"_Brooklyn, you remember Mr. Green, right? From your daddy's company in the army?"_

"_Yeah?" _

"_We found him tonight. Actually, he sort of found us,"_

"_Was daddy with him?" Her eyes twinkled. Reminded me of her father's._

"_Baby, I'm so sorry."_

"_You're wrong!"_

"_I'm so sorry, baby."_

…

"_Mrs. Riley, I am so sorry to tell you this, but you cannot have anymore children."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_Your uterus was damaged beyond repair. We were lucky to save your daughter."_

…

"_Kaylee, I have some bad news...it's about your brother..."_

…

"_Mommy, what's wr...wrong?"_

"_Nothing."_

…

"_You stupid whore, get out of my face!" _

…

"Rick, we can't just let her go on like this," Hershel said in a hushed tone. "She's got a daughter for Christ's sake."

"It's her way of coping, Hershel," he replied sullenly.

"It ain't healthy," Hershel argued.

"What do you suggest we do?"

…

"_Kay, this is Misha, you said you wanted a puppy, and when Duke's old bitch had a litter, this one showed the most potential," _

"_I love her!"_

_The tiny furry bundle wagged her tail happily, her huge paws tracking muddy prints throughout the kitchen. _

…

"_Breathe, it's going to be okay, just breathe..."_

…

"_You've got to shoot 'em in the head. Gotta destroy the brain. 'Therwise they keep on comin'."_

"_They ain't human no more, right?"_

"_Darlin' they the farthest from human you get."_

…

"_Shoot me, damnit Kaylee, shoot me 'fore I turn inta one'a 'em!" _

"_I can't do that an' you know it!"_

"_Girl, do it for your kid, do it 'cause you ain't got no other choice."_

_The blood. There was so much blood..._

…

"_With arms wide open..."_

"_That's gonna be her lullaby, huh?" _

"_It's perfect, ain't it?"_

…

"_How long are you gonna be gone for this time?" _

"_Six weeks. At least, far as I know."_

"_I'll miss you, we both will."_

"_I'll miss you both too, beautiful. But I'll be home 'fore you know it."_

…

"_Is my husband dead?"_

"_No. Worse."_

…

"_Worse..."_

…

"_Darlin' in this day an' age, the only thing worse than bein' dead, is bein' undead."_

"_Damn straight."_

…

_Undead..._

…

"_Don't you get bit. Whatever you do, don't you dare get bit."_

…

"_Hey mom?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_I gotta tell you something,"_

"_What?"_

"_I'm...Luke and me...we're getting married," _

"_Seriously?"_

"_Seriously."_

…

"_Daddy, you remember when you said you approved of Lucas and me waiting to have a baby?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Well, we're...uhm, sorta, gonna have a baby, a little girl, in October,"_

"_Congratulation, Kaylee!"_

…

"_Luke, something's wrong."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Something_..._Ow!"_

…

"_Kaylee, you hang in there, you fight, you here me!"_

"_Sir, your wife's uterus tore, we have to deliver your baby, now!"_

"_Kaylee, you're gonna be okay. The baby, she's gonna be okay. I'm gonna be right here, the whole time, you hear me! The whole time!"_

…

"_Kaylee, Lucas, your daughter is very weak. We're going to do everything we can to keep her alive. Don't you worry..."_

…

"Rick...it's been twenty-four hours. Her daughter's scared something fierce..." Hershel said tiredly.

"Should I slap her now?" Daryl asked for the millionth time.

"Yeah...yeah, slap her."

…

_The moans. The blood, the guts, the stench. _

_Humanity at it's knees. _

_Everything's gone to hell in a hand basket._

_And I still don't know if my husband's alive or not._

…

_Lucas..._

"_No. Worse."_

"_Darlin' in this day an' age, the only thing worse than bein' dead, is bein' undead."_

_Undead._

_Mindless. Flesh eating monsters. _

_Cold, unknowing, a shell of what once was._

_Lost._

…

_Death would be so pleasant now._

_A nice bullet to the head. _

_A nice, cold bullet to the head. End it all. Before it ended us. _

_Or maybe an arrow. Them arrows sure are nice. _

_Gonna have to ask Daryl how he came about 'em._

_Daryl._

…

_That damn dog likes him. She ain't like people. Why him?_

_Daryl. _

_Brooke's comfortable with him too._

_What's wrong with that?_

_Daryl..._

…

_What was that? Pain? Why am I feeling..._

…

_Feeling..._

_Lights..._

_Why is it so bright?_

_Wait..._

_I'm a mother._

_Right?_

_I'm a wife..._

_Right?_

_No..._

_I was a wife..._

_My husband's dead..._

_No..._

_My husband's **un**dead._

"_Darlin' in this day an' age, the only thing worse than bein' dead, is bein' undead."_

…

"Ouch."

* * *

_A/n- I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I thought it'd be interesting to get inside the head of someone who's slowly (or quickly) losing their grip on reality. A blind, mindless dabble of memories and flashbacks and images that would have been otherwise overlooked. Thoughts? :)  
_


	7. Chapter 6

It took another week or two for me to fully get over the shock of everything. And I ain't 'bout to lie and say it wasn't hugely because of Daryl and Carol, along with even Carl helping me through it. Carl was great with Brooke, surprising, a real natural at babysitting to say the least. She adored him, and would trail him around the jail for hours. He even taught her to shoot a gun, something I didn't very much approve of, but allowed for her own safety. Brooke was somewhat of a natural, now somewhere between five and six. No one was positive of the month, much less the date, but we knew it was summer. Mid summer. So August. So I guess, since Brooke had to grow up fast, at six, she was old enough to handle a gun. Never, ever alone though. I didn't like guns to begin with.

It was early one morning when Daryl and I were walking the lot, taking out a few dozen Walkers. I'd grown so used to the new name, that it was just easier to go with it. I was wiping my knife in the grass when I sensed someone behind me. I turned to see Daryl watching me, silent, as always.

That was how he helped the most. Silently shadowing my steps whenever I broke from the group, whether to take the dog for a run outside – I got restless nearly as much as she did, being caged in like that – or when I decided to take my frustrations out on the Walkers. He was a silent companion, whose very presence made me remember I was safe, I could let my guard down, no matter what, I'd be safe. He'd wait silently whenever I broke down in breathtaking sobs, or angry growling at the Walkers. He'd wait patiently, if I stopped and stared at the sky for endless hours on end. In a way, he reminded me a lot of my brother, who died years before the outbreak. My brother had been a very quiet, very soft spoken person. He was a kick ass hunter, and was brilliant to say the least, but very easy going. He'd listen to whatever someone had to say, consider every word, before speaking. Though my brother was in a sense, the exact opposite of Daryl, Daryl's silence reminded me of him in so many ways.

That morning was different, however. A familiar face came closer to the fence than ever before. I froze. For a whole moment, I froze, my fingers outstretched, tears welling in my eyes. As he stepped closer, his features grew clearer. His eyes, his nose, what was left of his face. He reached for me, and had I hesitated a moment longer, who would have taken my fingers off. Instead, I closed my eyes and slammed my knife deep into his skull. The familiar cracking sound, the same sound that used to ease the anger in my veins, drove me to my knees. I felt my body start to tremble as I stared at the blood that covered my hand. Blood that was not my own, but felt as if it were. My breath caught in my throat, as I pressed my eyes shut, struggling to calm my racing heart. I felt my inside turn to ice, and as I turned aside, everything in my stomach soon painted a messy picture in the grass at my side. Gasping, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, my heart hammering in my chest.

I couldn't stop the violent sobs that racked my body. This was the moment I had been longing for, yet fearing the most. The moment I'd come face to face with my worst nightmare. The moment my world truly changed. I gasped for breath, fighting against my own body, unable to regain control. For a whole moment, I wished I had let him bite me. Let him give a valid reason to end me.

After a few strangled moments, Daryl, who had silently watched the entire thing unfold, knelt beside me and gently pulled me into his arms. I turned in, so my face was against his chest, as I sobbed bitterly, until no more tears would come. Exhausted, I finally pulled away, finally, slowly, as I regained control.

"You're a tough chick, you know that?" he said softly. I said nothing, just nodded. I was shaking, both from physical exhaustion brought on by the crying, and the emotional strain of what had just happened. With Daryl's help, I found my feet, and in silence, we walked back inside, side by side, both bloodied from the day's affairs.

"Mommy, why do you look so sad?" Brooke asked at dinner time, as she poured the last of the kibble on the floor for Misha.

"Nothing, honey," I said softly.

"Are you sure?" her innocent voice asked, her eyes locked on my face.

"I'm sure," I nodded slowly. "Is that the last of the kibble?" I asked, just to change the subject.

"Yeah, we're gonna have to go get more, huh?" she said as she carefully pushed it into a neat pile, even though Misha was just going to push it all over again.

"You're going no where, but I suppose so," I nodded. "We need to get more formula for Judy too."

"We're out already?" Rick asked, surprised.

"Yeah. We're down to the last few bottle's worth. That child drinks like a horse," I laughed.

"Guess we'll have to make a trip back to that convenient store, huh?" Daryl said, raising an eyebrow.

"It's probably picked over by now. Or overwhelmed. Brooke, go get my map out of my bag, I think I outlined the route to another one a few miles out," I said. Brooke did as I said and returned a moment later, carrying our tattered map.

I stared at it for a moment, before sighing.

"Unless we waste a whole day and a whole tank of gas, we're gonna have to go through a city to get to it," I said, pointing at the ink lines on the paper. "That's the closest one. Far enough out that it probably hasn't seen any living folks in months, but too close to town to be safe."

"What's that lead to?" Rick asked, pointing to the red line.

"Hell," I said with a shrug. "We took that path first, before realizing it wasn't safe. Last I knew, there were Walkers all over the place. Can't get through even with a car, 'less your car's tank worthy," I sighed. "Unless..."

I poured Brooke a bowl of beans before I began pacing. I had an idea, but it sure wasn't a good one. We needed supplies, we all could admit to that. But we sure as hell weren't willing to die for them. But if we could get close enough, someone could run in and out without getting seen. But who was quiet, skilled, and fast enough?

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Rick finally asked after over an hour of me pacing.

I stopped and stared at him for a moment, before picking up my steady pace again. I thought about it a couple more times, considered every obstacle, every mistake that could be made, every possible way someone could get hurt, before considering just how it could work out. How everyone could get out alive. How we'd had to move, how fast we'd have to be, how quiet.

After a few more minutes, I stopped just short of where Brooke had been watching me, the entire time. I smiled down at her, before turning to the group.

"I have a plan," I said slowly. "Let me see the map again."

Rick handed it over wordlessly, watching as I traced my finger along an invisible path.

"There's a gas station just about here," I said after a moment of careful concentration. It wasn't marked on the map, but I could remember passing it on our way to the prison. "About a three day's walk, so probably half a day's drive or so. It's back in the woods, on an old dirt road. I think it's been long since forgotten – those were the first to be looted, and longest to have been forgotten and left," I said as I thought about it some more. "I think..." I had to really, really think about it, because it'd be a risk in and of itself to try and get to it. On foot would have been the best method, it was hard to get over the masses of bodies and vacant cars now a days. But with Walkers still roaming too close for comfort, on foot wasn't an option, not when you're carrying supplies.

"My bike," Daryl said suddenly, breaking into my thoughts. "It's easier to get into tight spaces," he added, almost as if he had seen exactly what I had been considering.

I nodded and thought about it. He was right, but how fast could it move? Would it be able to keep us safe?

"The gas station's small, it won't have a lot," I said slowly. "But to be honest, baby care supplies are left at a lot of places we've looted. Most weren't thinkin' much about them when trying to stay alive."

"So what are you suggesting Kay?" Rick asked, curious.

"I don't think we'd be able to get there in a car – the path in narrow, and it's far from a smooth ride. But Daryl's right, the motorcycle on the other hand, would get the job done. Shoot, we could ride it right up to the door," I said with a smile. "I'm almost positive the place hasn't been completely picked over yet – the windows were still intact when we passed it."

"But mommy!" Brooke broke in. "When we passed it, you said it looked like Walkers were inside!" she yelped, her eyes wide with fright.

"Probably are, but not enough to pose a huge threat," I nodded. "S'long as no one were to get lead happy and shoot a gun, two people could get in and out with no problem."

"How sure of that are you?" Rick asked. I could see it in his eyes. He was worried about sending anyone out on a suicide mission.

"Pretty damn sure. I wouldn't have carried Brooke right up past it, alone, if I wasn't," I smiled slightly. "We didn't have the advantage of arrows or quick get aways or someone watching our back other than our dog," I insisted. "We had to go the long way, whatever way we ended up taking."

"Speaking of the dog, how you planning to bring her?" Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew I didn't go much of anywhere without her.

"I have a rig for situations like this. Actually, it was made for whenever we had to climb fences or scale cars, but works the same," I shrugged. "Sort of like a baby holder thing, only for a dog."

"That's real clever," Hershel stated from across the way. I smiled and shook my head.

"I ain't never even considered leaving that dog behind. Every time somethin' came up, we went with it, just like I did my kid,"" I laughed.

We all discussed the plan a little more, before finally settling that Daryl and I would go first thing in the morning. Glenn wanted to go instead of me, but I pointed out that I knew the way, and could get in and out quickly. No one liked it – they were worried it'd send me over the edge and I'd wind up getting the both of us killed, but no one argued once I pointed out that we needed Misha for this kind of run. She'd be the perfect lookout – able to hear, see and smell the Walkers before the crept up on us, especially since we'd be open targets the whole time.

In a sense, I felt like something was off about the whole situation. It seemed like it'd be way too easy. Like it was a trap. But rather than voice my thoughts, I simply shrugged them off, late that night, with Misha's head laying lightly across my chest, her oversized paws twitching against my side.

That night, I dreamed of blood, guts and horror. The same as any other night. My daughter moaning lightly at my side, overcome by nightmares of her own. After only a few hours of sleep, I woke, stiff and cold, awaiting the day ahead.

* * *

_A/n- No, just for the record, there's not going to be any romance between Daryl and Kay. She's still convinced she's married to Lucas, even though he's dead. And Daryl has a thing for Carol. :) _


	8. Chapter 7

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I groaned as I tried to fix the rig for the millionth time. The straps had long since rotted, the metal clasps rusted and stuck in place. Despite my cursing and spitting, Misha sat at my side, eager as ever to finally get a breath of freedom – even if it meant being strapped to my back. I finally gave up, after over an hour of tiresome twisting and pulling.

"Misha, looks like you're sitting this one out," I grumbled. I held up the rotted rig to show her, before tossing it aside. "I'd say follow behind, but even you can't move that fast, and I ain't 'bout to fall off the damn thing trying to keep you alive. You're gonna stay here," I told her. She cocked her head, before letting out a low whine, as if to say "no way!".

"You never go no where without the dog, mama!" Brooke yelped when I handed her Misha's thick, rope leash.

"I know," I smiled. "That's why you're gonna have to keep her tied up 'till I get back."

"She sure won't like that," she said, her eyes dancing.

"No, she sure won't," I agreed with a shake of my head. I tossed my bag over my shoulder, tied the straps so it won't fall loose, then looked at my daughter. "Now you 'member. You're to listen to Carol no matter what she says, and you stay right where Carl can see you at all times, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am," she said with a nod. I'd already spoken with Carl and Carol, both who agreed to watch Brooke while I was gone.

"And you don't go shootin' nothing, you understand?" I said before standing up.

"Okay," she pouted at that.

"I'll take you out for target practice tomorrow if you behave," I decided. We had a few rounds left for the BB gun I still had at the bottom of the duffel. It was worthless in these times, but it'd do good for her to practice with.

"Okay," she said happily, her eyes shining with excitement. She scurried off, dragging Misha with her. After she was out of sight, picked up my gun and checked to make sure it was loaded. Before sliding it into my waist band, I traced my fingers over the small letters engraved on the side. Two small letters. LR.

I sighed as I walked down the stairs to find Daryl. He was loading his crossbow when I finally found him.

"You ready?" he asked without looking up.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I shrugged. I looked around at the motley crew of a group, all busy with their own business, some cooking, others doing laundry as best they could. Carl was telling Brooke a story, probably the one about the time he got shot. She loved that one. Carol was watching them like a mother hen. She reminded me of how protective my mother had been with all the grandbabies.

"You sure you're up for this?" Daryl asked softly. When I looked at him, I saw that he was studying me carefully.

"'Fraid Imma get to killed?" I asked with a soft laugh. "I'm up for this, gotta be," I said with a shrug. "Let's roll."

* * *

The ride was quieter than I expected. Not a single Walker came into view after we cleared the prison. Over the hum of the motorcycle, I could hear birds singing. For a whole moment, I forgot what type of hell the world had come to.

"Turn here," I said as quietly as possible over the hum of the motorcycle. Daryl did. We were off the main road now, only three or so miles away from the gas station. With one hand gripping Daryl's shoulder, I turned slightly, to scan our surroundings. "Stop!" I said quickly. I had seen something, but I wasn't entirely sure what.

"Why?" he grunted.

"Because I think I saw something," I said, my gun already in my hand. Daryl stopped the motorcycle and half turned to follow my gaze.

"What did you see?" he asked.

"Dunno, but it was moving fast," I said,

We didn't leave the sight of the motorcycle, but we made quick progress in our search. We found various tracks, but even with Daryl's keen hunting skills, we couldn't tell if they were Walkers or humans. After an hour wasted, Daryl finally said it was time to move on. I followed behind him, not entirely at ease. Whatever was out there, was good at hiding. It gave me a small sliver of hope – that maybe someone else was in the same situation we were. Maybe they'd be a help.

Or maybe, they'd be the exact opposite.

* * *

We reached the gas station with no problem at all. It was quiet, too quiet really.

"Something's not right," I said in a hushed tone as we walked side by side to the back door. The bike was parked only a few steps away. Easy to get to if we needed to leave fast.

"It's too quiet," Daryl agreed. He covered me while I picked the lock. The door opened with a loud groan, it's hinges rusted from lack of care. Dust rose quickly, as the light breeze blew in. I waited for it to clear, listening hard for the all too familiar sound of Walkers.

But the sound never came.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Daryl shrugged, pushing ahead of me. Once we were sure the place was empty, we both stuffed what little was left -and still fresh- into our bags. I managed to find a bag of dog food that the rats hadn't eaten and shoved it in my bag. It wasn't much, but it'd tie her over for a while. I had to check the dates on the formula for Judy, and was surprised to find it still fresh.

Testing my theory, I walked over to the small meat section, and saw, much to my amazement, that the deer carcass that was hanging over the freezer was still fresh.

"Daryl," I hissed.

"What?"

"We have to go. Now," I said, panic suddenly taking over.

"Why?" he asked, coming to my side.

"That deer is fresh."

"Your point?" he asked, eying the meat, clearly trying to figure out a way to carry it back on the bike.

"Someone's been here. Recently," I said with a shaking voice.

"Then let's go," he said after he tore the deer loose from it's hook. "We got dinner!"

"Let's hurry," I said. I felt like there were eyes on my back as we made a quick exit. I stood next to the bike, my back to Daryl, as he loaded the deer onto the back as best he could.

"If you can keep it from slippin' I don't see a problem getting it back," he said coolly.

"Sure, whatever," I muttered. I was trying to watch all directions at once, and his excited babbling was just making it that much harder. At the time, I didn't care how he planned to get the damn piece of meat back to the prison, much less what he planned to do with it when he did. He seemed to take no notice when I started to move closer, not until I elbowed him in the ribs.

"Hey," he muttered, turning to look at me.

"Something's coming, let's go!" I said in a hushed hiss.

He quickly kicked the bike to life, and waited half a second for me to get on, before tearing out of there like the devil was after us. In a sense, it felt like he was. I had to concentrate twice as hard to stay up right, due to the deer's cold body being half tied around me.

We were only a half mile from the prison when we realized our mistake. The bike had attracted the attention of a handful of Walkers. There weren't many, but enough to slow us down. Then I noticed that there were more filtering through the trees, almost as if someone sent them after us.

"We're never gonna get through," I shouted, using one of Daryl's arrows as a knife. It wasn't the best choice, but it was the quickest.

"We sure don't have the means to take 'em out," he grunted. "I count about three dozen," he added. He had slowed by motorcycle, but we were still moving faster than the Walkers were.

"There's another two or three dozen behind us," I said, watching as they approached. "Daryl, we gotta think fast!"

"I'm open to-" his sentence was cut short by the force of the bike flipping. In our haste, we did not see the tired trap that was set across the road. The block hadn't been there before. Whoever set it, knew we'd be going back the way we came. It happened so fast. The bike flew, throwing me straight off the back, the deer along with me. I didn't see where Daryl landed. I was too busy cutting the ropes around my waist. Once I was freed, I stumbled to my feet. My leg was bleeding mighty bad, but adrenaline kept me from fully feeling the effects. I looked around and saw the smoke. My heart sank.

"No," I moaned. Some of the Walkers were still coming at me, but I ignored them. They were far enough away not to pose a threat yet. Even if they reached me, it wouldn't matter. Not anymore.

I pushed my body to it's limits, my duffel still somehow strapped to my back. I limped quickly to the twisted metal remains, the smell of gas thick in the air.

"Daryl!" I screamed, not caring whose attention I caught. "Daryl!"

I heard a sound, only it wasn't what I expected. I heard gunshots. A distant bark. A moan. Blinking, I looked into the distance and saw two cars driving in our direction. Leading the way was Misha, barking her furry head off, her legs carrying her faster than I ever dreamed possible.

"Daryl!" I screamed again, now that I realized help was on the way. Then I saw it. A puddle of blood. Too much blood. I took out my gun, but kept it low, my hands shaking. A few feet from the ruined bike, laid Daryl, or rather, the bleeding, limp body of Daryl.

"No!" I screamed, throwing myself at him protectively. I searched for a pulse before anything else. To my relief, his was strong. I tried to find the source of the bleeding, and realized his right arm was ripped open from shoulder to wrist. I tore my belt loose and wrapped it tightly around his upper arm, before shaking him violently.

"You're not aloud to die, you hear me! You're not aloud to!" I screamed right in his face. I couldn't help but smile through the tears when his eyes opened. He looked at me stupidly for a moment, before opening his mouth.

"Now I know what it's like to fly," he muttered. "It sucks ass." His eyes fluttered closed, but his breathing remained strong. With that little bit of hope, I held on.

Rick reached us first. His gun tightly gripped in his hand.

"Don't fire that thing. The bike's leakin' gas all over the place," I said, motioning to the twisted metal. "There's a good few dozen comin' up fast. We have to move, now!" IHe said quickly. When the bike flipped, it thankfully tossed us a few hundred yards to the right, away from the Walkers. But they were redirected by my screams.

"Can you walk?" Rick asked as Maggie and Glenn caught up, having cleared a path as well as they could.

"Rick, we have maybe three minutes before they're on us," Glenn said quickly.

"I can walk," I added. "Go, get Daryl to the car," I directed them. I needed to get that bag from under the wreckage. I had to. Otherwise, the whole day was a waste.

"Come on, Kay," Maggie begged.

"In a minute," I said as I pulled at the bag. After a few more tugs, it pulled loose, throwing me backwards in the process. Maggie helped me to my feet, wrapped her arm around my waist, and together, we made the short distance to the cars.

"C'mon Misha," I said softly as my vision began to blur. Blood loss, exhaustion and shock all hitting at the same time.

"We have to move!" Rick yelled from the other car.

Darkness...

A low hum...

Peace.

Lights...

Who the hell turned on the sun?

Why is it shining right in my face?

"Kay?"

Darkness. Welcoming me back.

The dark-light moments grew closer together.

Confusion set it.

Smells returned first.

Then my sense of hearing.

Then, finally, my eyes opened.

"Oh thank God!" a voice sighed with relief.

"She's coming around!" another called softly.

A cloth on my forehead. I was hyper aware to it's touch.

A hand squeezing mine. Someone saying how scared they were. A baby's distant cry.

It all slowly started to come back to me.

I took a deep breath, blinking up at the faces before me like a newborn foal.

I was alive.


	9. Chapter 8

"Urgh! One more day stuck sittin' here an' Imma go batty!" I complained a week later. Hershel had said that I wasn't to put weight on the leg until it healed. Said it could be a month or more. Apparently, along with cutting it open, I managed to fracture my foot. My goddamned foot of all things. Daryl, on the other hand, was allowed to move around after a week. He had a mighty awful concussion, his arm was a mess, and he was bruised from head to toe, but he didn't break nothing. Surprising as it was.

"I can't believe you went for the bag," Carol scolded late in the morning as she changed Judy, who was cooing happily.

"She needed formula," I shrugged. "I can't believe we totaled the bike though."

"I'm just glad you two got back here alive," Carol said with a shake of her head.

"It's thanks to Rick, Glenn and Maggie that we did," I said, the memories of that day all too clear. Suddenly, I realized someone was missing. "Did my dog ever make it back?"

"What?" Carol asked.

"Where's Brooke?"

"Brooke, come here," Carol called. A few minutes later, I heard the familiar sounds of her footfalls against the concrete.

"Hi Carol, hi mommy!" she greeted brightly. She came over and gave me a huge hug.

"Hey babygirl, where's Misha?" I asked. Brooke's smile broke when I asked that.

"No one told you?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Told me what?" I asked, sitting up straighter. Carol pretended that she wasn't listening.

"Mommy, Misha died that day you and Da...Dar...Urgh! That day you and _Raral_ gotted hurt!" she said with tears in her eyes.

"Daryl," I corrected her. "Sorta like Carol with a D," I added. Then I blinked. "Did you say what I think you said?"

She nodded sadly. "Carl told me Mr. Rick saw 'er goes down when the 'Alkers started after the cars," she explained. Her grammar had gotten worse.

"Okay," I said slowly. "You go play," I added. She scurried off to do whatever it was she'd been doing before Carol called her. "Did you know?" I directed my question at Carol, who nodded sadly.

"Rick said not to tell you until you were back up on your feet."

"No one thought I'd notice her not being here?" I snapped.

"Daryl said you would. Said we were stupid to try and keep it from you," she sighed.

"Damn straight!" I growled, pushing myself up, my injured foot an inch off the ground.

"Kay, you're not supposed to be using that foot!" she scolded,

"I ain't. I'll hop my ass around 'till I find Rick," I grumbled. I leaned heavily on the wall, the very effort of standing still too much for my weakened body.

Carol watched as I stood there, almost as if she knew I wouldn't get far. Finally, I gave in and slowly sat back down, my leg aching.

"I'll tell Rick to come find you, okay?" she finally said as she picked Judy up.

"Sure," I muttered miserably.

I sat on my bedroll for what felt like a lifetime. Without Misha's warm fur to wrap my fingers through, I felt even more lousy. I resorted to drawing, something I was never much good at when I was a kid. I drew little pictures on the back of a piece of paper, shading them in until they were dark and sad lookin'.

"Stop moping around," a raspy voice teased. I looked up and saw Daryl, his arm in a sling, his face still bruised, looking down at me.

"Easy for you to say, you ain't stuck sittin' around useless all day," I complained.

"Want some company?"

"Sure."

He said down next to me, wincing at the pain that clearly worked it's way through his body. I shook my head sadly and looked up at the ceiling.

"It's sort of funny, ya know?" I said, a laugh escaping my lips.

"What is?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When I saw that smoke, I was sure I'd haveta shoot you," I shook my head. "Then you looked up at me, grinned that cocky grin 'o yours an' said 'Now I know what it's like to fly. It sucks ass.' and I 'member, soon as those words left your mouth, I knew you were gonna be just fine." I shook my head, a single tear slippin' down my cheek.

"I said that?" he asked, eyes widening slightly.

"Sure did! Then I look up an' hear that damn dog o' mine barking her head off. I think that was when I really realized we were gonna be okay. Don't remember much after that, 'sept telling Maggie I needed to get your bag loose," I said. I only remembered bits and pieces after that.

"I'm sorry about your dog," Daryl said sincerely.

"Me too. She was a loyal bitch, that one," I sighed. I looked down at the spot where she used to always lay, her eyes always watching, her ears always perked, catching every sound. "Rick never told me how they knew to come after us," I said, looking at him to see if he knew.

He filled me in on what they told him after he fully came to. Misha got antsy as soon as we left, which was no surprise, seeing how she hated not knowing where I was. By midday, she was a wreck. She even went as far as to snap at Glenn before finally snapping the rope. She ended up running outside, barking like crazy, jumping at the gate, her ears pinned to her head. It was Carol who said something had to be wrong for her to be acting like that. To keep her from digging a hole under the gate, Rick, Maggie and Glenn decided to drive the way we went to see if we were in any sort of trouble. Misha darted ahead before they even got a chance to get the gate fully open, barking the entire time, only stopping long enough for them to see what direction she went in.

After they found us and a path was cleared, she started diving at the Walkers, biting at them, letting them grab on her, buying Rick and Glenn time, so they could get Daryl into the car. When they turned around, they couldn't see her, could only hear the sound of her dying howl.

"That's my girl," I smiled sadly. "A true fighter till the bitter end."

"You don't seem too upset," Daryl commented.

"I'm heartbroken, but if she hadn't alerted them, or had waited five minutes longer to cause a ruckus, we'd both be dead...or worse," I said with a shake of my head. "Her death had purpose."

"You sound like Hershel," Daryl teased.

"And you sound like my brother more and more each day," I laughed, nudging him softly. "I ever tell you about Damien?"

"I don't think so?" he said, leaning back to listen to the story.

* * *

He was ten years older than I was. A true natural at helping our mama with me. The earliest memory I had, was of him bandaging my knee when I fell off our old mare, Bullet. Despite her name, she was a mighty fine horse, great with kids, anyone really. But I had been reckless and let her get the best of me. I was about 7, Damien, 17. Rather than go out with his friends, he was teaching me how to ride.

"Might come in handy one day," he always said.

I remember him defending me and our mama to our father for the first 12 years of my life. Taking the beatings, tending to my bruises, telling our mama to kick him to the curb. That just wasn't how she was raised. "I took him, for better or worse," she used to say, even when she was nursing a nasty bruise or a broken bone. She hated him more than Damien I think, and he hated him a whole lot.

When he died when I was 15, I don't even think I cried. I think I was more relieved than anything else. He was an awful man that had no problem putting his family through hell, especially his girls, as he called us. "Gotta make sure you know who's in charge," he'd scream. "Don't need you runnin' off getting pregnant like your mama did when she was yo' age. No sir, ain't raisin' no more babies."

But when he died, our mama got over it real fast. Too fast our neighbors said. But the day she married Scotty, our world suddenly seemed a'right. I remember calling him Daddy for the first time. The day he walked me down the alter to my husband, nearly 6 years after.

But Damien, Damien never got over what our father did to us. He was bitter, but his bitterness made him quiet. Careful. He'd talk to me through all my problems, no matter how small they were. He'd listen for hours while I went on and on about Lucas, or how scared I was to move away. Or how much I missed home once I was gone. He helped us raise Brooklyn for her first two years.

She was three when he died. The police said it was an accident, that he overdosed. I thought otherwise. My brother was not weak. Not in the least. He'd rather die on his feet than take the coward's way out. I remembered the day all too clearly. I'd spoken to him the night before. He said something bad was gonna happen, something really bad.

Six months later, the world went to hell.

* * *

"How do I sound like him then?" Daryl asked after I finished, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"I can't explain it. In a lot of ways, you two are as different as it comes, but in some, you're just alike. Like how you are with Judy, or how much Brooke looks up to you," I said smiling. "Or how you knew exactly what to do, rather than what to say after everything."

He seemed to think about that for a while. Almost as if what I said had struck a cord deep inside him.

Before he had a chance to say anything, Brooke came running up to us, her bright eyes both tired and excited.

"Mommy!" she squealed merrily.

"Hey babygirl," I said, wincing as she crawled into my lap. Her little hands gripped at my hurt leg, sending a ripple of pain up it. "Careful," I gasped, grabbing the collar of her shirt to drag her the rest of the way, settling her half on me, half on Daryl.

"Mommy, tell me the story about how you saved that little boy when you was a kid," she demanded. I smiled at her, that was her favorite story of all time. I pulled the blanket around her and closed my eyes, letting the fond memory play in my mind.

* * *

It was the summer I turned 10. Damien was away at work and mom had sent me out to work the horse. Old Bessy I think it was. The old, ornery mare, who loved to gallop through the fields. It was the middle of the day, a bright, sunny Saturday, when I heard something making noise by the creek. Bessy was all worked up over it, tossing her head something fierce.

I had a hard time keeping her from rearing, but I was good with horses by that time. Damien was a patient teacher, and spent hours teaching me how to control a horse, no matter how spooky they were.

I remembered kicking her into a gallop, the trees whipping by. That was when I heard it, a panicked scream. I dismounted and slapped at Bessy's rear, sending her home. Better that way.

I followed the sound through the trees. Out way past out property line. My mama, she never much cared for me wandering past the line, said I'd get myself shot if I wasn't careful. I ignored that warning as I ran, the scream getting more and more urgent...

* * *

"Did you know the little boy?" Brooke asked, a smile on her face.

"Brooke, who's telling the story?" I reminded her. Daryl smiled at the simple exchange, as into the story as my daughter was.

* * *

It took a while to find him. I was still short and it was hard to get over the thick roots and bushes, but when I found him, I saw him sitting between two rocks, tears running down his face. I noticed a plash of blood on his face, and remembered immediately what my mama had always said about crossing the line.

"Hey kid," I called softly. He looked up, his eyes wide with fright. "I ain't gonna hurt you. What's wrong?"

"My horse took off, threw me clear 'cross the path. Don't know where he don'got to," he whimpered. He was maybe a years or two younger than I was, but he sure looked scared.

"Are ye hurt?" I asked, walking over to him, my hands raised in front of me, to show him I wasn't carrying a weapon.

"My arm," he nodded, holding up his left arm, that was bleeding a little bit. That explained the blood. I quickly closed the distance between us and held his arm carefully in my hand.

"It's just a little graze, you'll be a'right," I said softly as I pulled a rag from my pocket. I wrapped it around his arm and helped him to his feet. "What way you live?"

"That way," he said, pointing the opposite direction of my place. "But my papa, he'll have a cow if I don't bring the horse home," he wailed.

"C'mon, we'll find it," I said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I can promise you that."

* * *

"Did you ever find the horse?" Brooke asked.

"Don't quite remember," I shrugged. "All I know is my daddy was spittin' venom when I came home long after dark, blood on my shirt, Ol' Bessy causing a ruckus in the field."

"But you saved the little boy, right?" Brooke said with a smile. She'd heard that story a million times, yet always asked the same damn questions.

"That's right. Got 'im home in one piece. I 'member his mama was scared silly when she saw me. Thought I hurt her boy," I laughed.

Brooke snuggled deep between Daryl and I, a yawn forming.

"Now you lil' Miss, need to get some sleep," I ordered.

"One more story mama?" she begged.

"I'll tell you what, you go to sleep, and I'll tell you a story in the mornin'," I promised. She nodded and crawled back over me, landing lightly on her side of the bed, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Daryl shook his head, a tight smile on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"For a soft Country girl, you sure are one tough bitch," he teased.

"Raised wrong on all levels," I nodded. I grabbed a hold of the wall and slowly pushed myself up, ignoring the stab of pain in my leg.

"I thought Hershel said you weren't supposed to move for at least a month?" he scolded, laying his good hand on my shoulder once he was on his feet.

"Screw that. I have to pee somethin' fierce, and I'm tired of layin' around," I shook my head. I slowly let my injured foot bear some weight. At first, it sent me reeling, a bright light flaring up inside my head, but after a few deep breaths, and just the knowledge that Daryl was right there, keeping me from fallin' on my face, I slowly was able to clear my mind. I took a shaky step, testing my leg before letting go of the wall.

"Stubborn as always," a new voice scolded, snapping me from my concentration. I turned my head, my hand finding the wall again, to see who it was. Hershel was standing by the wall, shaking his head.

"If you rebreak that foot, you'll be off it a lot longer," he reminded me.

"I won't," I said with pure determination. "But I ain't sittin' around no longer either," I added. I laughed softly to myself as I thought about the reason behind my getting up. "I have to pee!" I laughed softly, taking another step away from the wall. After a few more steps, I got the hang on keeping most of my weight on right leg, so my left didn't have to bear nearly as much weight. It wasn't the easiest task, but it grew familiar quickly enough.

"Don't fall," Hershel said as I limped past him. Daryl followed like a faithful mutt, keeping his good arm outstretched to catch me if I lost my balance.

"Yeah, don't fall," Daryl said smugly when I leaned against the wall to catch my breath.

"I'll slap you, I really will," I grumbled. "Give me a minute," I added as I slipped into an empty cell. I wasn't a fan of the 'everyone knowing your business' part of living in such a tight group, but for once, I was happy just to pee in peace. When I was done, I leaned heavily on the sink, my foot an inch off the ground. I felt myself shake with the effort it took just to keep myself up right.

"Don't make me come in there," Daryl's raspy voice threatened.

"I'm fine," I called back. I rearranged my features, and by the time I made it back to him, I looked happier, even though I felt like absolute shit.

We passed Rick and Carl on our way back through the block. Carl was cleaning his gun and Rick was reading something.

"I never got a chance to thank you," I said when he looked up.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be on your feet," he responded promptly.

"I didn't know Hershel convinced you all to keep saying that," I muttered. "But thanks. We were about to be Walker Waffles if you guys didn't show up," I said truthfully.

"Your dog's the one who saved you two. She knew something was wrong, we just thought she was pissed you left her behind," he shrugged. "How's the foot?"

"Sore," I said truthfully. "But it's workin' so can't complain."

"Daryl was too fuzzy on the details, so what the hell happened out there anyway?" Rick asked. I leaned against the wall, slowly easing myself to the ground before shaking my head.

"I only remember bits and pieces, but..." my voice broke off when I remembered the fear that coursed through my veins when I couldn't find Daryl. All else was forgotten. It was the same fear I felt the day I crashed the van and couldn't find Brooke.

"Kay?" Rick asked, taking a step towards me.

I blinked and looked up, the whole story pouring out in one long breath.

I told him how something was wrong at the station, things that should have long since rotted, were fresh. How the deer looked no more than a day or two old. Then I explained how the Walkers came out of no where, almost like someone turned them loose on us. Then the tire trap. That was about all I remembered. That, and the sickening feeling in my gut when I realized we flew opposite directions when the bike crashed.

"You have no idea what that felt like. All I knew was that nothing else mattered until I knew whether he was dead or alive. Everything else could wait," I said truthfully, shaking my head. "I guess my husband was right when he said I was too self-sacrificing when it came to family."

"Family?" Rick asked, raising an eyebrow at Daryl.

"Be realistic, Rick. This group, these people. We're all any of us got left. We're the only family any of us got left," I sighed. I looked up, a single tear falling from my eyes. "I was so sure, so friggin' sure," I whispered, shaking my head miserably. "Then I heard that damn dog o' mine. I heard her barking and I knew there was hope. That maybe we'd make it after all."

Everyone fell silent after that, lost in their own thoughts. I'd spoken the truth that no one dared to speak before then. We were all any of us had left. We were at the end of the world, and nothing else really mattered.

It dawned on me later that I forgot one thing. Daryl had a brother out there somewhere, that very well might still be alive. Later, after everyone went to bed, I realized that I might have crushed what little hope he still had left in finding his brother. But in a way, that didn't matter either. Hope was a worthless cause in this world. You couldn't rely on hope anymore. You had to rely on the people around you. The people still breathing, still talking. The people who won't leave you to die.

Because everyone else was gone. Everyone else was dead. Or worse.


	10. Chapter 9

It was a month later when the prison was overrun. We were doing all we could to fend them off, but they just kept coming. More every night. We fought hard, but we lost a few of our own by the end.

"Brooke!" I screamed over the sound of gunfire. She had been at my side a moment earlier. "Brooke!" I screamed.

"I've got 'er, she's over here!" Rick shouted back. I pushed past Daryl and Carl to get to her. I grabbed her hand and held her close.

"Rick, it's over, we have to get out, or die!" I screamed.

He said something I couldn't quite catch before he pushed me behind him, shielding me from the Walkers.

"Brooke, go stand behind Daryl, you hear me?" I ordered her. She did as I said, scooping baby Judy from Carl's arms in the process. "Carl, you too!" I said as I stepped in where he had been.

It was chaos. We tried to cover each other, but we were low on ammo. Low on just about everything. The kids crowded behind Daryl, all scared to death by the nightmare unfolding. I backed up so I was to their right, covering Daryl every time he had to reload the crossbow.

"How many bolts you got left?" I shouted over the noise.

"Four," he replied, not even bothering to look up.

"We have to go. Now," I said for the millionth time that night.

"I'm not leaving without my dad!" Carl insisted.

"Boy, you're gonna get your baby sister outta here alive," I said sternly. "If we're fast, we'll g-" I was cut off by the force that shoved me forward. A familiar moan broke free as it's half destroyed face lunged at me.

I rolled away from the small group, my knife tearing at the creatures face.

* * *

She was right. If we didn't leave soon, we'd die. We already lost Hershel and Carol, and probably Glenn and Maggie. Hadn't seem them in a while. Too long a while. But I couldn't bring myself to leave. We fought long and hard to keep the prison this long, there was no way I'd step aside now. No way in hell...

* * *

We have to get out. Have to. I dropped to one knee, keeping Brooke and Judy right where I could grab 'em if I had to. Carl was covering the girls like a man. Hard to believe the kid was so much like his daddy.

"Daryl!" I shouted, pulling the Brooke up right next to me. She was clutching the baby in her arms for dear life, tears streaming down her face.

"What?" he shouted back, trying to keep the Walkers at bay with only one bolt left.

"Daryl, we have to go, now!" I screamed. I stabbed at a Walker that was coming too close for comfort. "Who the hell is that?" I asked when a figure stepped into view. He looked like something out of a bad slasher movie. He had a knife like thing on his one hand, the other holding tightly to a gun.

"I'll be damned," Daryl said, straightening up.

"Well best be going, baby brother, I ain't gonna stand 'ere all night," the man cackled. Right from the get-go I didn't like the man, but something about him seemed familiar.

Then it dawned on me.

_He's a stubborn son of a bitch. Cut his own hand off to get away..._

Merle. Merle mother fucking Dixon. Of all the people I had been hopin' to see, he certainly was a bitter-sweet face among the dead.

"Daryl, c'mon," I shouted. I tore the baby from Brooke arms and held her to my chest, my heart racing. I didn't like havin' my back to the infamous Merle, but I saw no choice. "Carl, take hold of Brooke's hand and let's go," I ordered. The boy looked scared, but did as I said. "Daryl, for God's sake, let's go!"

"You heard her, little brother, go!" Merle roared over the sounds of gun shots and moans.

Daryl stared like a newborn calf. His eyes wide, his face frozen in a look of pure disbelief. I cursed and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards me.

"Daryl, I ain't too keen on leavin' you here, but there are three kids that ain't deserve to die like this. Let's go. Now!"

Finally, something snapped. He blinked once, then grabbed the baby from my arms, freeing me to scoop Brooke up. We ran faster than I ever thought possible, three children locked between us.

We were just a few yards from the car when they surrounded us again. Daryl was a few feet ahead. He could get away.

"Brooke, I love you. You're going to go to Daryl and stay with him. No matter what you hear, okay?" I told her.

"No mommy! I can't lose you too! Please!" her voice broke as sobs over took her.

"Brooklyn, you're going to get out of here, you're going to listen to Daryl alright? I'll find you, okay? I promise, tell Daryl to wait where they left stuff for Sophia. I know it's a ways away, but it'd be the safest place. He'll know where I mean. Now run!" I said as I sat her down. She ran, but not without looking back every chance she had.

"Hey you flesh eating freaks, come at me!" I screamed, louder than ever before. I aimed my gun at the sky, shooting it without even caring that it was one of my final bullets. Their attention turned away from Daryl and the children. They stumbled after me as I ran. I ran like no tomorrow.

Because for me, there probably would be no tomorrow.

Why did she always have to go off playin' hero? Why couldn't she think about herself for once? Why the fuck did she have to keep on provin' herself?

Even after we were in the car and driving towards the highway, I didn't feel right. I left her to die. Left Merle, all of 'em, to do what? Get three kids to safety? Where the hell was safety now a days anyway?

Brooke keeps sayin' she'll meet us on the highway, right where we left supplies for Sophia over a year ago. I don't think she'll make it. I really don't. Ain't no way she could outrun all those Walkers. Ain't no way.

I was breathless when I finally heard a lull in the constant moans and shuffles. My leg hurt something fierce. Hershel had been right. I put way too much weight on it way too soon. I could see 'em coming, the Walkers. But I couldn't keep on running. It'd only be a matter of time before my body gave out.

Instead, I did what I thought Daryl would have done in this situation. I picked a tree and climbed it, as quickly as I could. That was how I realized I could get out alive after all. The Walkers were coming from the prison, not to the prison. The entire way out was right there in front of us all along. They must have come from the other side.

I came up with a shitty plan not too long after. Had to. I was tired and slowly losing my grip on reality, and figured, well, if I'm to die, I'm gonna die on my feet. Just like my late husband would have wanted.

So I ran. I ran.

But it didn't even matter.

* * *

_A/n- Stay tuned for the shocking continuation in "As I Lay Dying" the second fic in the mini series. _

_Thank you for all the reviews and follows/favorites. It means the world to me, and helped me get this story out far faster than I ever intended! _


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